


bent

by Akane21



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Makeup, Non-Linear Narrative, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akane21/pseuds/Akane21
Summary: Hidan, in a way, is so alike Madara; and this resemblance is partly why Kakuzu shivers under his touch.But Hidan says he won't harm him.Kakuzu is a fool to believe these words."It's okay," his little sister says, "I'm here."And she fades into the flames, just like everything - everyone - he's ever loved.





	bent

_right now I could just disappear_

“Wake up, nii-san,” a cool hand touches his shoulder carefully, and Kakuzu opens his eyes, wincing at the bright sun.

Shimizu is standing before him, her head tilted to the side, and there’s a slightly amused smile on her lips. The sun’s behind her — and with the way it shines, it’s as if imouto herself is made from this soft golden light. Kakuzu shakes his head, and the illusion goes away.

“What do you want?” he asks.

Shimizu shrugs carelessly, but the look in her eyes is serious, weary; it’s not the look of a kid she is. This look doesn’t suit her — his imouto shouldn’t look like this.

“You’re going on a mission today, aren’t you?” she asks this question with an unshakable certainty in her voice, and Kakuzu nods even though he can recall nothing of any mission. If Shimizu says so, then it has to be the case.

The corner of her mouth twitches slightly as she sits next to him on the wet grass. She moves closer and rests her head on his shoulder — a strange cold is radiating from her, but she behaves as if everything’s perfectly fine. Kakuzu looks at her, trying to understand what’s wrong; but Shimizu looks just like always, aside from being a little sad.

But what could possibly trouble his little Shi-chan? A mission gone wrong? A fight with a teammate? Her first heartbreak, maybe? Well, Kakuzu chuckles to himself, he won’t be any help if it’s the latter.

In any case, he’s certain she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if it’s something serious.

Perhaps, he’s just used to expecting the worst – and things are really okay now.

Kakuzu ruffles her hair, soft and slightly curly. Shimizu closes her eyes, smiling, leans into the caress, almost like a little kitten.

Something seems wrong to him, but he can’t figure out what exactly.

Shimizu moves away, looks him in the eye.

“You left then, too,” she fumbles with her shinobi protector wrapped around her neck. “Mom got really upset. Angry, too.”

Kakuzu doesn’t understand what she’s talking about but replies with the first thing that comes to mind. “I can’t just abandon going on missions altogether, you understand it, right?”

“I do,” she waves her hand dismissively. “You’re always like that. All about your duty as a shinobi... but what about us?”

“I...” Kakuzu starts and trails off.

Shimizu is right to some extent. When was the last time he’s spent time with his family? That day... he must’ve missed something important. Sister’s birthday? Mother’s? Father’s? He doesn’t even remember. It’s so strange. She had the right to be angry. He would be angry as well.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, laying his hand on her shoulder. “But think about it... you’re a shinobi now too, aren’t you?”

“I was one of the best in my class,” Shimizu nods, and there’s a flicker of pride in her eyes – though it fades rather soon.

“I know,” he runs a hand through her hair again. At least he remembers that one thing. “In time, you’ll understand. Missions and fighting take up most of your life. There’s no time or strength left for anything else.”

She shakes her head, looks at him sullenly – offended, frustrated. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, nii-san! I really do understand. I just miss you so much. You’re barely ever home. I... I just want you to be there for me, you know.”

Kakuzu says nothing. He doesn’t know how to reply – what can he say? It’s no use repeating himself, Shimizu will only take it as an affront. He can’t blame her, but he also can’t change anything.

“I’m sorry, Shi-chan,” he says quietly.

“Don’t call me that!” Shimizu almost jumps upon hearing it, and there’s horror in her eyes. “Don’t!”

“Okay,” Kakuzu raises his hand in an attempt to calm her, looking at her with confusion. “I won’t.”

Shimizu nods quickly, her agitation fading immediately, and lowers her head. Her shoulders are shaking, and she embraces herself as if it’ll help her calm down. She’s acting strange, Kakuzu thinks. He doesn’t remember his sister ever being in such condition; and it has to mean something. Something must have happened.

“What’s going on, imouto?” he asks as softly as he can. “Tell me. You can trust me.”

She turns away, but Kakuzu still notices tears glistening in her eyes.

“You know what,” she says faintly.

She sounds so sure, but Kakuzu doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand what she means.

The clouds hide the sun; and it’s almost the same as the way Shimizu is hiding from him now.

Kakuzu looks at her, and she seems so fragile and small; and a sudden realization makes him freeze in place.

“Did you cut your hair?” Shimizu shudders, looking at him again.

“No,” she says. Smiles – but this smile is fake, so faint and weak. “No, why would I...”

“Then...” Kakuzu doesn’t finish.

Shimizu rushes to him suddenly, wraps her arms around his neck with all the strength this little body of hers has. She whispers, pressing her face into his shoulder, her voice ragged and desperate.

“It’s time for you to go, nii-san,” her small hands squeeze the rough fabric of his cloak. “Just come back soon, okay?”

Kakuzu strokes her back awkwardly, searching for words to say. He never was good at comforting, but he just can’t stand seeing Shimizu like this.

“Everything will be fine,” he manages finally, and it sounds so damn fake – even a five-year old wouldn’t believe this, and imouto is thirteen, and she’s a shinobi.

Shimizu makes a quiet, gloomy laugh.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispers, “nii-san...”

Her voice starts to fade, becoming almost indistinguishable from the soft rustling of the wind.

 

Kakuzu opens his eyes.

Right above him is the stone-gray ceiling of the Akatsuki hideout – one of so many.

Shimizu isn’t here, nor can she be.

A dream. It was just a dream.

Kakuzu rises slowly, sits on the bed. Stares sightlessly straight ahead, rubs his eyes.

_Why are you sad, imouto?_

He should have been by her side back then.

But... none of that matters anymore.

Right now, he has to worry about the mission. It would be unwise to keep the Leader waiting.

 

_but it’s a lie, it is a lie_

 

“Your new partner,” Pein says flatly. “Hidan.”

Kakuzu looks at the guy standing next to Leader; and he doesn’t seem all that impressive. Too young, probably not very strong – after all, geniuses like Uchiha Itachi are the exception, not the rule. And this cocky grin of his, this insolent look in his eyes – it’s obvious that this guy isn’t used to following orders. And this is supposed to be his partner? Even the previous one that he’d killed was at least somewhat decent.

“We won’t get along,” Kakuzu warns.

“Why the fuck not?” Hidan cuts in before Leader manages to say a word. “Or do you think I’m some fucking pushover?”

“This,” Kakuzu nods, “is exactly what I’m talking about, Leader-sama.”

“You will get along,” Pein’s eyes narrow. “I do not care how or what you are going to do to reach an agreement.”

“What if I kill him right now?” Not that Kakuzu is trying to provoke or anger Pein, but he’s genuinely curious. This is his fifth partner. Maybe if this one’s dead, Pein will finally leave Kakuzu be and let him work alone. He’ll handle the missions by himself just fine; just like he did while waiting for a new partner.

“Hidan is immortal,” Leader says dryly as if it’s a completely ordinary thing before turning around and leaving. Well, he was never one for talking much. Or explaining anything.

As Kakuzu watches him go, dumbfounded, Hidan suddenly starts laughing – and this laughter is just as loud and obnoxious as his attitude.

“How fucking unfortunate for you!” He’s mocking and isn’t even trying to hide it, and Kakuzu’s day has been bad enough; so without another word, he grabs Hidan’s neck and twists it with a loud crack.

Hidan slumps to his knees but doesn’t fall just yet. His head is turned backwards; no way he’s alive after that. There’s no breathing, no pained groans – yes, he’s definitely dead.

So much for being  _immortal_.

Kakuzu shrugs and takes a step towards the door as well – no point in staying here any longer; but then he hears that disgusting laughter and turns back.

Hidan gets up as if nothing happened, rubs his neck and grimaces painfully. “Pein fucking told you! Why the fuck would you test me? You know how fucking painful that was?”

There’s a clear reproach in his voice, even hurt – it would be funny if the whole situation wasn’t so... impossible.

So Hidan... is truly immortal? Immortal in the sense people usually put in this word, not like Orochimaru with his body changing jutsu, not like Kakuzu himself whose ‘immortality’ hinges solely on the extra hearts.

If this is really the case... Damned Leader has chosen the perfect partner for him. And maybe – just maybe – if Hidan’s attitude wasn’t so unbearable, they might have made a decent team.

Kakuzu glances at Hidan disdainfully, and he meets his gaze with a smirk – so proud of himself, he must be. Anger boils inside him upon the sight, but it’s pointless to start a fight.

“Come,” Kakuzu says instead.

Hidan follows him, still grinning.

 

_you know it’s unforgivably_

 

Kakuzu looks in the mirror. No, it was a stupid idea – why did he ever start this.

Disguise himself as a girl, just to – what was he even hoping for? Not even a blind man in a dark room will mistake him for a woman. Especially Akira, who might be somewhat careless and heedless even... but he’s not a complete idiot. And he definitely isn’t blind.

_You’re a fucking shinobi, use a henge._

Of course, Kakuzu could do that; but he doesn’t want to. Yes, he could create a perfect disguise. He could turn into any girl that Akira would like – he could even take on Hanako’s appearance, if he wanted. But it wouldn’t be... quite the same. Subconsciously, even now Kakuzu wants – he hopes that Akira will see something familiar in a female stranger’s looks, will see him – the real him.

It’s stupid, stupid, outright crazy.

Especially considering that he fails miserably in his attempts to look at least somewhat like a girl. The makeup on his face looks like he’s just got paint all over him by accident, there’s nothing beautiful or even normal in this. Even though Kakuzu tried to copy his mother’s usual festive makeup, perhaps, he just sucks at it.

Or he should’ve spent more money and bought better cosmetics, because that powder’s peeling off no matter how much of it he’s applying, the lipstick is too thick and sticky, smeared on his lips sloppily – even whores have better makeup, he thinks, and he just looks like a kid who stole his mother’s stuff and tried it all on himself. A complete and utter mess. It’s somewhat true, though, because he’s never done that before and has no idea just how to use half of that; but still, he didn’t think he’d be so incompetent in this.

But... why does it come as a surprise, nobody ever taught them in the Academy how to apply makeup. What a waste.

Kakuzu laughs at his stupid thoughts.

If anyone saw him now, what would they say? Would they laugh or call him a freak? Most likely.

 _Fucking brat, I knew I should’ve strangled you when you were born_ , that’s what father would say; but it would be just talk. All father does is talk loud, snarling like an old, weak dog whose place as a leader has already been taken by a younger and stronger member of the pack.

Kakuzu grimaces. He doesn’t like thinking about father, preferring to pretend he doesn’t exist at all. Luckily, it’s easy with them both ignoring each other’s existence, never speaking much. Mother always tries to make peace between them, but not too hard; even she realizes it won’t work with their mutual hatred lasting for years.

At least father doesn’t hurt Shi.

Kakuzu removes the makeup – or, well, another pitiful attempt – and tries again.

He remembers how mother did that, slowly and carefully, knowing perfectly what kind of look she wanted to get. Kakuzu doesn’t know what look he wants. Something simple, probably. His face isn’t exactly girly or cute.

Mother’s makeup always was so beautiful. So delicate. She attracted glances even simply walking down the street.

Kakuzu probably won’t get the same effect, but he wants to at least look natural.

Mother’s skin is pale, and she usually applies a very thin layer of white to give her skin that faint ethereal glow. Kakuzu, on the other hand, has to use a lot of that thing until he’s finally satisfied with the result.

The lipstick is still unpleasantly sticky, almost gluing his lips, but it’s not like he anything to choose from.  The red color is too bright, too defiant; but it draws the attention away from the rest of his face, from his rough and sharp features, not even slightly feminine. So it’s all good, Kakuzu thinks.

He pauses for a moment before putting the rouge away – no, it would look stupid. As if it’s possible for him to look even more stupid than he already does.

He doesn’t really know what to do with his eyes. Simply using black eyeliner seems like the best choice, so he does just that. Maybe if the layer is thick enough, no one will notice anything.

Kakuzu looks in the mirror. How strange.

He recognizes himself and at the same time he doesn’t.

At least the reflection does look like a girl – or a woman, his face is too rough for a young girl. In any case, it seems quite difficult to understand that beneath the heavy makeup – it’s him.

There’s just his hair left to take care of – initially Kakuzu remembers his mother’s festive hairstyles again, but it’d take too long, and he doesn’t have any hair accessories for that. So he just pulls his hair back in a simple ponytail, leaving a few long strands loose, falling on his shoulders.

When he looks at himself one last time, the sight seems beautiful to him.

_Strange._

Kakuzu never considered himself  _beautiful_ , but now...

He could get used to that.

 

_also is this type of me_

 

Hanako sits down next to him, looks at him attentively. Kakuzu casts her a surprised glance, but then looks at the fire again, unwilling to talk to anyone right now.

“What’s up?” she asks, obviously not going to leave him alone. “You haven’t been yourself the whole day.”

 _I wonder how you’d feel if you were me_ , Kakuzu thinks. It’s all so complicated, so messed up, and Kakuzu himself keeps complicating things even further.

He brushes her off, “I’m fine. And even I wasn’t, what do you care?”

Hanako frowns. It’s obvious from the look in her eyes that she’s displeased, even offended. “What do I care? You’re my friend, Kakuzu, why are you so surprised that I’m worried about you?”

_Friend._

Kakuzu wouldn’t call her a friend. She’s a good ally, someone he can rely on during missions and fights, nothing more. On the other hand, there’s no one he can call a friend – even Akira. Especially Akira.

_Stop thinking about him at least now, you idiot._

“In any case,” Kakuzu doesn’t look at her anymore, “everything’s fine. Don’t bother me.”

“What are you busy with, I wonder?” Hanako makes a soft laugh, moving a bit closer. Too close – Kakuzu shudders, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I know fire is one of the things you can watch forever... but that can wait, don’t you think?”

No, it can’t.

Kakuzu doesn’t really want to offend her, because Hanako isn’t the cause of his dumb imaginary problems.

“I’m planning our next move,” he says. “We still have a mission to complete, Hanako. There’s so many things to do.”

“You can’t think only about the mission,” Hanako smiles, and there’s a strange flicker in her eyes – but maybe it’s just the fire reflecting. “I mean... sometimes you just need to relax. Just have some rest... Talk about something.”

Hanako looks at him; moves even closer, and her hand is on his shoulder, stroking lightly, and Kakuzu leans to her without any thinking.

Hanako is... so bright, so beautiful and so normal.

She has a tender smile and a soft voice.

Why not – it’s probably the right thing. It’s better than to keep dreaming hopelessly of Akira, because the right thing for a man is to dream of a woman, not of another man.

Hanako is close – so close Kakuzu feels her breath on his lips – he forces himself to stop doubting.

But then an awkward cough interrupts them and a ostensibly cheerful voice says:

“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting anything!”

Kakuzu backs away from Hanako almost faster than she does, looks at Akira, wide-eyed. He smiles as if nothing’s wrong, shrugs nonchalantly.

“Sorry I’m back so... unexpectedly, ha!”

Kakuzu turns away, catches Hanako’s worried and guilty glance. Of course, Akira always seemed to like her.

How... awkward.

So awkward that he wants to erase this moment from his memory once and for all.

“And where have you been, Akira-kun?” Hanako asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“I was in town,” he says somewhat evasively. “I wanted to find someone... but the luck wasn’t on my side, I guess.”

“Who did you want to find?” Hanako wonders, her voice becoming lively again.

“A girl,” Akira’s gaze wanders off, and on his face appears that goddamn dreamy smile. Kakuzu wants to look away, but he just can’t. Why is Akira so... perfect? “Her name is Katsumi... that’s all I know.”

Really now.

Kakuzu can’t hold back a laugh. He doesn’t care how this looks – he just laughs loudly, unable to stop.

“Hey!” Akira says, insulted. “Is it so hard to believe that I have finally met the perfect girl?”

Now it’s Hanako’s turn to laugh, because everyone knows that Akira has troubles with girls. Who knows why – he’s so amazing, but still it remains this way. In a moment, Akira joins in, and the three of them laugh almost hysterically for some more time. Well, at the very least it makes some of the tension go away.

This is all so stupid. 

Kakuzu thinks that he should meet with Akira  _like that_  again... even though he didn’t plan it.

 

_and if it is true you should admit_

 

“Katsumi-chan,” Akira smiles at him softly. “We’re finished with our mission, so we’ll have to leave soon.”

“It’s a pity,” Kakuzu tries to speak as little as possible, fearing that the voice changing technique will let him down at the worst possible time.

“There’s a festival in your town tomorrow, right?” Akira looks up to the starry sky, and god, he’s so stunning now. Kakuzu doesn’t care about the sky. Akira is so much more beautiful. Especially with that dreamy look in his eyes, and the way his face is lit by the pale moonlight.

Kakuzu feels disgusted with himself. Just how pathetic he is, dressing up as a woman and meeting with Akira in secret. Lying to him. Making himself look like a complete idiot. But even so, he can’t give it up. He wants to believe in the illusion – that at least like this Akira will care about him.

“Yes... Do you want to come?” he asks.

Akira nods eagerly.

“I’ve heard that festival is worth seeing. The fireworks, especially.”

“Yeah, it is.” Kakuzu smiles nervously. He tries his best to look calm, but something must be showing – and Akira covers his hand with his own.

How doesn’t he notice. That fool.

“Would you like to come with me? I mean...” he glances away, looking embarrassed, but still holds Kakuzu’s hand firmly. “I like you, Katsumi-chan, but I really don’t know if we will meet again. I came to this town solely because of our mission. Takigakure is far from here, so I really have no idea whether I’ll ever see you again,” Akira raises his head and looks at him. His eyes are too serious... too tender. “I want to spend some more time with you. I mean... I’d love to spend an eternity with you.” God, he sounds so cheesy – and Kakuzu finds himself totally enchanted by it. He calls himself an idiot a few more times, but it doesn’t help. “But we just have one day, so...”

Kakuzu wants to end this charade here and now, but something makes him go on with playing this role he’s so sick of.

“Yes,” he says. “I... will be happy to go on the festival with you, Akira.” And he adds, giving up completely, “I also... like you.”

 _I love you_ , he wants to say instead,  _damn Akira, I’ve loved you all these years, but you’re just too dumb to understand that._

But – _of-fucking-course_ – he says nothing of the sort.

And Akira’s smile widens even more.

He moves closer to him, their faces no more than a few inches away.

 “Can I?” he whispers, and Kakuzu nods silently, completely at a loss for any words.

Akira kisses him – softly, slowly, and it’s better than anything he’s ever imagined – better than anything he could’ve hoped for.

Pulling away, Akira just looks at him for a few long moments, and there’s something strange in his eyes. Kakuzu wants to turn away as he remembers – _how could he forget_ – about his imperfect makeup, but Akira’s warm hand touches his cheek gently, strokes, smearing the white.

“You have beautiful eyes, Katsumi-chan,” he says and moves away, getting up. “So, see you on the festival?”

“See you,” Kakuzu manages to say.

Akira jumps off the roof, disappearing from sight.

Kakuzu remembers the way he looked at him.

As if he  _knew_.

 

But when Kakuzu comes back, having washed off the makeup and dressed in his usual clothes, nothing in Akira’s behavior shows that he realized who Katsumi really was. He greets Kakuzu friendly, but without any emotion, and continues his conversation with Hanako.

It’s somewhat unpleasant – but the only thing that matters is that Akira doesn’t suspect anything.

 

_you didn’t notice it_

 

As time passes, Kakuzu gets somewhat used to Hidan. He doesn’t really understand his feelings for him – Hidan is still annoying, but for some reason Kakuzu doesn’t want to kill him anymore.

Not that it’s possible.

Hidan’s hair is white, just like his skin, and even his lashes are surprisingly light – his magenta eyes are the only color on pure whiteness. He’s handsome, in his own way, with this almost inhuman beauty; and Kakuzu is scared by what he’s thinking about it.

He wants to touch Hidan’s skin, feel its softness beneath his fingers,

_leave scarlet traces on white, cut through the skin and muscles, revealing the bones, make him squirm in pain_

But he stops these thoughts, even if with some trouble, because it’s Hidan, and Kakuzu doesn’t want to hurt him – again.

Hidan doesn’t really like pain, even though he enjoys his twisted rituals; but simple pain, caused by others – no, he doesn’t like it at all.

Before, Kakuzu thought differently; but when during their sparring he wrings Hidan’s arm, pressing him into the ground, and then sees the expression in his eyes, the way he bites his lower lip – that’s when he realizes he was wrong. Then he silently fixes Hidan’s dislocated shoulder and swears to himself that he will never hurt him again.

But their next fight ends with him breaking Hidan’s ribs and wrists – so hard that the fragments of broken bones tear the through the skin. Kakuzu heals him himself, just as silently, because he has nothing to say at all. Hidan’s angry look pierces him as he swears loudly; and for the first time Kakuzu doesn’t want to shut him up, because he has the right for any words. He has the right to be mad.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” Hidan says, wincing painfully. “Do I really piss you off by simply existing? Or are you just so fucked in the head?”

Kakuzu says nothing, looking at the green glow of the healing jutsu around his palms.

‘I don’t know,’ he thinks, ‘I just can’t stop.’

_“Nothing personal,” Madara says, and the look of his red eyes is paralyzing, freezing. “I just want to know how long you will last.”_

Kakuzu closes his eyes, trying to make the memory go away, and focuses on the healing. Hidan doesn’t make another sound for some reason, only hisses barely audibly as the broken bones are put back in place.

They do not fight anymore, even though Hidan, it seems, wants a rematch for all his previous losses. But Kakuzu doesn’t trust himself anymore. Even less than before. Hidan doesn’t deserve pain, Hidan deserves something better than him, and if Kakuzu believed in gods, he would pray to Jashin that Hidan never knew of his thoughts.

But he doesn’t believe in gods.

Kakuzu doesn’t touch Hidan anymore, only when he has to stitch up his injuries (he’s so careless when he’s fighting). But never more than that. Each time Kakuzu touched someone ended the same. He always hurt someone.

_Mother. Shimizu. Hanako. Akira. They all rot in the ground, and he is the only one to blame._

The only thing Kakuzu allows himself is running his fingers through Hidan’s tangled white hair as the threads connect his head to the neck. The blood on his face is red – so bright. It’s almost beautiful – but Kakuzu doesn’t want to think about it. Surprisingly, Hidan doesn’t shy away from his touch. On the contrary, he closes his eyes and leans into the caress, as if he’s enjoying it. If he knew what really was hiding behind his partner’s seeming tenderness, would he be so relaxed?

Hidan doesn’t look like a girl, but his face is thin and delicate. He’d look good with lipstick on – much better than Kakuzu; he barely suppresses a bitter grin, even though Hidan wouldn’t see it under the mask.

_“This is disgusting,” Madara brushes his fingertips along Kakuzu’s painted face, staining the skin with white. “But also... strangely appealing.”_

_Kakuzu looks at him, unable to move. Madara looks through him, and the red fire of the Sharingan burns in his eyes, and there’s no escape from this gaze._

_Madara touches the rough scars covering his whole body, runs his icy palm across the naked skin – Kakuzu wants to push him away, but his body doesn’t obey him._

_Madara leans to him, kisses his pressed lips, closing his damned eyes for a few long moments; and then pulls away. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, forming a strange smirk._

_“Don’t try to resist.”_

_Red lipstick is smeared over Madara’s lips, and on anyone else it would look funny – but Madara manages to seem dangerous even now._

_Kakuzu lets Madara do whatever he wants to him – after all, it’s not like he’s in any position to resist. He doesn’t move when Madara kisses him again and laughs quietly; he squeezes his eyes shut just not to see these eyes, draining all his strength._

_At least, Kakuzu thinks, Madara is decent enough not to hurt him. But still, staying calm gets harder with each his movement, and Kakuzu grits his teeth, clenches his fists, nails sinking into the skin._

_There’s just one thought in his mind._

_Keep silent._

“What is it?” Hidan asks, and for a second, Kakuzu thinks he hears genuine worry in his voice. He’d like to believe in that.

He shakes his head, lies:

“Everything’s fine,” and then he rushes into the room, locking the door.

He doesn’t want to hurt Hidan – no. He wants to, but he doesn’t want to want it.

And so Kakuzu scratches his own skin desperately, tearing the stitches and pushing his fingers deep inside – so that it hurts as much as possible, he wants it to hurt – as bad as possible. The threads make the pain so dull; but for a brief second it does get better. But maybe he’s just fooling himself.

It’s better to hurt himself than the one he... than Hidan.

What exactly does he feel towards Hidan? Kakuzu still can’t name this feeling, but he knows for sure – he’d rather die than see pain in his eyes again.

 

_you don’t know how I feel inside_

 

 

Noticing a tall figure before him, Kakuzu stops and looks intently.

Just great. Just what he needed.

He’s not afraid, but he knows that even with the stolen kinjutsu he’s not a match for Uchiha Madara. So Kakuzu waits, not looking away – will he attack? Let him go?

Madara does neither of these things. He just tilts his head to the side, piercing him with the red gaze of the Sharingan, and suddenly Kakuzu’s vision gets blurry, and then everything goes dark.

He opens his eyes only to find that his hands are tied behind his back, and he feels so weak and drained. Madara is standing before him, looking down at him. His face shows no hint of emotion, but in his eyes is something close to interest.

“You’re the one who tried to kill Hashirama,” he says in a calm, cold voice. “You failed, of course... but you’re still alive, and this is nothing short of impressive.”

“What... do you need?” Kakuzu asks quietly. He feels dizzy, barely processing what’s happening.

It’s unlikely that Uchiha wants to have revenge on him for trying to kill the First; he must need something else. But what? Information?

Madara looks at him thoughtfully – and somewhat appraisingly. “Well, I think you could be of use to me,” and noticing Kakuzu’s confused look, he explains, “That technique of yours, I mean. I’ve heard of it, but never got the chance to see it in action.”

The technique... Kakuzu frowns. Not too surprising, to be honest. But Madara will get nothing from him.

“I do not need your secrets,” Madara seems to hear his thoughts. “I only need your help with some task. Possibly more than one.”

“Oh, are you hiring me?” Kakuzu grins half-mockingly. “How much are you gonna pay me?” and he laughs, like it’s such a great joke.

But this whole situation – no, he doesn’t find it funny at all.

Madara’s eyes narrow, and red sparks flicker inside the black depth once again.

“I’m afraid you’re not realizing the position you’re in,” he says. He doesn’t raise his voice but still sounds intimidating. “You have nowhere to go. Takigakure has placed a bounty on your head. How long do you think you can keep on hiding? How many will you defeat when you’re found? I’m offering you protection, in return for your loyalty.”

It’s not a secret that the Uchiha and the Senju aren’t exactly on good terms, and Kakuzu wouldn’t be surprised if Madara was planning something against the Hokage. Or he could have some other goal – not like he knows the man enough to assume. But he doesn’t care why Madara wants him. He won’t be a part of any of that. He’s had enough of being ordered around.

Madara waits for his answer patiently, and Kakuzu spits, “Fuck you.”

The Sharingan in Madara’s eyes seems to burn brighter than before, and a strange black pattern forms on the red.

 _Wrong answer_ , echoes in his head, and the world explodes in pain.

_Pain tears through his body, so wrong, so unnatural it would seem unreal if it wasn’t so strong. There’s blood on his lips and – something else, stop, stop – his chained hands are so numb he can barely feel them._

_Stop, that’s enough, please._

_You’ve failed the mission, so accept your punishment like a shinobi should; and somebody grabs a handful of his hair, shoving his face into the cold stone floor, somebody’s hands are all over his body -_

_Stop!_

_He’s screaming, trying to break free – and then everything’s suddenly gone._

When consciousness returns to him, the first thing he sees is Madara’s face, amused as he observes him.

His head is spinning, everything is blurry before his sight; Kakuzu looks at Madara, and he asks, sounding almost concerned, “Have you changed your mind yet? It’s your last chance. You refuse – you die.”

Kakuzu never thought himself a coward, but damn Madara dragged out all those memories from his mind, everything he’s been trying to bury, like nothing’s happened. And it might just be too much, he thinks, images still so vibrant in his brain, as if it was never truly over. He doesn’t want to go through that again, ever.

“Just kill me,” he breathes out.

“So stubborn,” Madara shakes his head. “Think carefully. I won’t kill you myself.”

Kakuzu stares at him, wide-eyed – and understands. Madara will turn him over to Taki. And then...

_No._

This thought is so desperate and hopeless that he doesn’t even notice how he says it out loud.

“No?” Madara repeats. “Well, it’s your choice.”

“I don’t want that,” Kakuzu says hoarsely and hates himself for how his voice breaks. “I don’t want... again,” he takes a deep breath, trying to sound normal. “I accept your offer. What do you want?”

Madara says nothing but smiles victoriously.

 

_you don’t know just how much I tried_

 

It’s always helped before. It’s always got better.  
Now it’s worse, and nothing changes when he runs the lipstick over his lips, layer by layer until it starts to feel uncomfortably sticky.

The mirror reflects his face in all its imperfection: thin and scarred, all covered in bright paint, and it’s definitely  _not_  aesthetic, beautiful, right. How could he even think it was beautiful?

He keeps staring, searching for the flaws no layer of makeup can fix with a painful delight.

He feels sick looking at himself, and there’s a heavy and cold ache inside his chest, suffocating him.

_it doesn’t help_

It’s as if something has broken inside him, changed, because it’s never been so bad before.

He never wanted to cut his chest open, tear out his heart, all five of them, get to the core of this  _wrongness_ , tear it out, destroy it, just to finally feel  _normal_ , right.

And Kakuzu knows exactly what’s the reason.

_Hidan._

Hidan and his strange, illogical sympathy, almost – desire to help. He doesn’t know why Hidan would act like that, but it’s what’s turned everything inside out.

Kakuzu doesn’t know what to do anymore. Or what to feel.

And it’s...

 _Painful_.

Strange.

Kakuzu looks again, and again he feels nothing but disgust as he sees himself.

His hand reaches for the kunai; this is the one thing that helps for certain, and it’s the best solution.

As Kakuzu presses the blade to his skin, he remembers Hidan’s eyes on that day – mad, horrified, so genuinely worried.

Something stops him, makes him drop the kunai on the floor. It lands there with a quiet sound, and Kakuzu closes his eyes tiredly. He doesn’t want to see Hidan looking at him like that again. So today he won’t do anything.

It doesn’t mean he’s at least slightly better or -

Kakuzu opens his eyes, feeling a sharp pain in his arm. He looks and realizes he scratched his barely healed wounds again, tore the stitches – and it bleeds, it hurts, but the pain is still  _not enough_ , not enough to calm down and stop thinking -

“Why are you doing this,” Shimizu holds him from behind gently, her warm cheek pressing to his shoulder. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

The mirror doesn’t reflect her, but Kakuzu feels her small body pressed to him, her soft hair brushing against his skin; he hears her voice.

“Shi...” he starts but trails off, his voice breaking.

“I’m here,” imouto says, but she’s  _not_  here.

She’s  _dead_.

Ghosts don’t exist.

Kakuzu punches the mirror, breaking the fragile glass, and the shards cut his skin, get stuck deep in the flesh, it hurts, as always, not enough.

_Another one broken, who’s going to pay for it?_

He laughs, and this rough, breaking laugh seems to scratch his throat on the way out. Kakuzu kneels down, takes the shards, squeezing them in his hand. Sharp edges cut his skin open, warm blood runs down his fingers – but the pain is still not enough, he needs more,  _stronger_.

_Someone._

_(Hidan)_

_Please, help me -_

No.

“I’ll help you,” imouto is so close, but her voice sounds muffled as if coming from behind a thick wall. “I’m here. Don’t wait for him. He won’t come anyway, and I will always be by your side.”

Kakuzu shivers as Shimizu gently strokes his head.

_please leave, you’re not here  
you’re dead_

For a moment, he thinks he can see her face, that she’s here, alive, like before.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she says, wrapping her thin arms around his neck.

_how can anything be okay when you’re dead?_

He grabs her wrists, pushing her away, and she looks at him with confusion and pain. “I want to help you! Why don’t you get it?”

Imouto doesn’t help, she only makes it hurt more.

But isn’t pain supposed to help? It helped before, it should be helping now; Kakuzu lowers his head, closes his eyes, but he still sees Shimizu before him, reaching out to him.

_Hidan..._

For a moment, he thinks she’s really here.

Then someone knocks at the door loudly, and Shimizu fades away, leaving him alone with this feeling of emptiness and hatred -

_Can he really hate anyone except for himself?_

 

_the ‘I’ it turns to ‘clown’ on my behalf_

 

Hidan wakes up as he hears a loud sound – a sound of glass breaking.

He jumps on the bed instinctively, reaches for his scythe he left on the floor; but then he realizes that nobody broke into their room. It’s just his fucking partner losing it again.

Looking at the light coming from under the bathroom door, Hidan wonders lazily whether he should come in and see what’s going on. Last time, nothing good came out of it.

A dull thud comes from there and then something breaks again. It gets quiet for a few moments, but Hidan still waits.

Another thud.

Hidan thinks he hears something close to crying, and he really isn’t sure. ‘Kakuzu’ and ‘crying’ just don’t go together. But...

_Fuck it all._

Hidan gets up, walks to the door carefully, slowly, listening to the sounds. He hears nothing more; only his own wild heartbeat and Kakuzu’s ragged breathing from behind the door.

“Kakuzu?” he slams his fist at the door, not even trying to be polite. “What the fuck is going on there?”

“Get lost,” Kakuzu whispers sharply, quietly.

 _Like hell I will_ , Hidan thinks.  _I don’t care if you’re really keen on finishing it, I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you die in peace._

Hidan knocks again, this time harder. When no answer follows, he kicks the door down and steps inside.

The first thing he sees are the mirror shards and blood stains on the floor. There’s not too much blood, and Hidan hopes that Kakuzu just hurt himself when breaking that fucking mirror, that he didn’t cut himself on purpose – like last time. Kakuzu stands over the sink, not facing him; but he turns around the moment he hears Hidan come in.

At first, Hidan thinks it’s the lighting. Or the fact he didn’t have much sleep. Or something else. He thinks he’s not really seeing this. But almost over a minute passes, and the sight remains the same, and Hidan thinks,  _what the actual fuck_.  
Kakuzu’s thin lips are red, unnaturally bright; his eyes are rimmed with black... mascara? It’s smeared a bit, so maybe he  _was_  crying, and there’s also that greenish eyeshadow on his lids – it actually goes well with his eyes, considering...

What.

_What?_

Hidan blinks, rubs his eyes, looks at Kakuzu – no, it’s definitely not his imagination. He’s not dreaming. And he’d laugh, but this is so fucking absurd there’s nothing to laugh at.

A hand grabs his neck, slams him hard into the wall, and Hidan coughs, trying to breathe, clutches at Kakuzu’s wrists, his fingers to make him let go.

“Laugh,” Kakuzu growls, leaning over him, his painted eyes mad with anger and pain. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

Hidan’s nails scratch his palm, but he’s still choking him.  _Fucking psycho_ , Hidan thinks. There’s  _nothing_  to laugh at.

“Fuck... Fuck, maybe because it’s not funny,” he manages, gasping for air. “Fuck. This is some fucked up shit, you’re fucked up.”

Kakuzu loosens his hold on him but doesn’t let go just yet. His face is too close, and Hidan freezes, looks at his eyes, too bright; at his red lips, glistening in the dim light; at him shaking with anger – or fear?  
And for some reason Hidan can’t look away.  
He reaches out to touch, not really sure why. It’s disgusting,  _unnatural_ ,  _what the actual fuck_ – but why can’t he look away?  
Hidan touches Kakuzu’s cheek, brushing his fingers along the skin, almost feverishly hot – and then he’s thrown across the room, hitting the floor.

“Fuck, are you out of your fucking mind?” Hidan gets up clumsily, wincing. It’s a wonder nothing’s broken, even though he heals rather quickly, it doesn’t mean he likes breaking his bones.

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, leaving the bathroom; and then Hidan hears the door of their room slamming shut.

 _Fuck this_ , Hidan thinks desperately,  _fuck you, fuck me_. He has no strength left for anything more meaningful.

And he would think it to be just a weird dream – a really fucking weird dream; but when morning comes, the busted door and shards of glass are still there, and the way Kakuzu looks at him leaves Hidan no other choice but to believe that all this shit did happen.

And fuck, Hidan wishes it was a dream, because he just can’t seem to forget Kakuzu’s face with all that makeup; this strange, crazy, completely fucked up look.

Especially these lips of his, just asking to -

_Jashin-sama, get these thoughts out of my head._

Hidan groans, burying his face in his hands.

Then he leaves the hideout and prays for the rest of the day, just to keep himself from thinking.

_It doesn’t help at all, of course._

 

_you’ll laugh and laugh_

 

 _I like it; I want it_  is all Madara says to explain his actions. The lustful look in his eyes is sickening, and it doesn’t get better when his pale fingers touch Kakuzu’s face lightly. He’s so close, and Kakuzu could grab his hand, break his wrist so that he never touches him again, push him away – or pull closer, rip out his eyes – and run, somewhere as far as possible.

Kakuzu doesn’t let this impression cloud his mind, knowing all too well that Madara would kill him before he even thinks of attacking. And if he kills him – it will be great. Perfect. He’ll be free.

Madara isn’t a fan of outright violence, and it could even seem he doesn’t force him to do anything, holding lightly, as if giving him the opportunity to leave. But how can Kakuzu resist when all it takes is one look, scarlet glint from under dark lashes – and there’s no fight in him left, and he’s down on his knees – _sometimes literally_.

Kakuzu closes his eyes and turns away. He doesn’t want to see Madara, his smirk, this smug superiority in his gaze.

There’s no use.

Cold fingers grab his chin firmly, turn his face; and he has no choice but to look. Madara raises his head a bit – when they are standing so close to each other, it’s obvious that he’s slightly shorter, but this doesn’t make him less threatening – less dangerous. Kakuzu feels cool lips press to his, almost gently, but still firmly, as if saying without words,  _don’t even try, I take all I want_.

And he takes, pulls him into a deep, long kiss, slides his hot wet tongue into his mouth; and it’s so disgusting that Kakuzu feels like vomiting. He manages to suppress the urge solely because he wants to keep whatever dignity he still has – though he probably has none left.

“I want to look at you,” Madara says as if it’s something obvious. “Don’t turn away.” _Or I’ll make you look at me_ , remains unspoken, but Kakuzu hears it clearly in his voice.

Madara puts a hand on his chest, pushes him on the bed and gets on top of him, pressing close – there’s nothing intimate in this, no more than a way to hold him in place, to show who’s in control.  
His hands are cold, and Kakuzu shudders as Madara’s fingers trail up his inner thigh and further; as they push inside him, stretching him. Madara never wastes much time on preparing him; he cares enough to make sure he doesn’t tear him, but sometimes Kakuzu thinks it would be better if he did, he’d prefer pain over this pretentious caress, because it only makes everything worse – _worse_.

Madara’s face is emotionless, concentrated; but there’s a dark fire burning inside his eyes.

He thrusts all the way inside him, and Kakuzu bites his lip, wincing at the greasy taste of the cheap lipstick, grips the already crumpled sheets. Madara keeps looking at him, as if admiring him.  
What’s there to admire, Kakuzu thinks, his face looks nothing but vulgar now.  
But Madara leans down, kisses his cheek, his lips; licks off some of the lipstick and smiles, so pleased and satisfied.  _Disgusting_. What is it he likes so much about it?

“If you weren’t resisting so much, you’d like it too,” Madara whispers mockingly into his ear.

He quickens his pace, and though it’s not painful, just slightly uncomfortable, there’s also nothing Kakuzu likes.

He feels disgusted with the situation, with himself.

_Why doesn’t he even try to fight?_

Kakuzu closes his eyes, trying to breathe steadily.

 _I hate you_ , he thinks, and he does not mean Madara.

 

_emotions I feel they turn to none_

 

Kakuzu has been acting strange lately. Really fucking strange – but Hidan can’t even explain to himself what exactly is wrong. But something isn’t right, if even he sees it.  
At first he doesn’t think much about his constant silence – after all, Kakuzu has never been exactly chatty. But then Hidan realizes that for the last three days Kakuzu hasn’t said a single word. For three days, it’s been just Hidan talking, and Kakuzu didn’t even tell him to shut up as he usually would. Hell, he didn’t even speak with that guy at the bounty collection office. Didn’t even count his fucking money. Now that was something to worry about.  
Hidan isn’t worried or even a bit concerned, though. He’s glad to have a break from the neverending notations.

Well. He might be... just a little worried. Or not. Hidan just doesn’t understand what’s happening, and he’s curious, and that’s it.

Maybe he’s just not used to not hearing Kakuzu grumbling at him all day. But that’s supposed to be a good thing. Why would he care? Kakuzu’s troubles shouldn’t concern him.

And yet, for some reason, they do. Hidan doesn’t ask him anything, knowing he won’t get an answer; but he watches him closely.

Kakuzu is avoiding him. It’s so obvious it’s even funny, but Hidan just doesn’t understand why. Well, Kakuzu never liked him to begin with, but this – this is too strange. The way he backs away each time they touch accidentally, the way he turns away when their eyes meet.

Hidan remembers when used to spar together; when Kakuzu would have those sudden outbursts, nearly tearing Hidan apart. He remembers the last time it happened. One of the worst, if not the worst. Is it what’s this all about?  
Kakuzu looked strangely guilty, healing the wounds he inflicted. And Hidan was somewhat pleased; getting Kakuzu to show any emotion except for anger was difficult. Not that Hidan was mad at him or wanted his apology. It was just nice seeing his partner act human once in a while.

But their last fight happened months ago. Could it really be the reason for Kakuzu’s strange behavior now?

Then, Hidan remembers the broken mirrors. Each time they stayed in a hotel – if their room had a mirror, it’d be broken the next morning.

Kakuzu doesn’t like mirrors.

Hidan always pays for those he breaks.

A hundredth reason to hate Kakuzu, he thinks; but he doesn’t hate him. He finds him weird, but a decent partner.

He’s certainly not going to get out of his way trying to figure out what’s wrong with him now. He doesn’t give a fuck.

_Or he does. But he won’t think about it._

 

They stop for a rest in a few more hours.

Kakuzu sits as far away from Hidan as possible.  
Just like always.  
Hidan glances at him quickly and notices him studying his arm intently. He also notices blood – is he wounded?

Hidan gets up and comes closer to him. He probably should leave him alone, but hell, he never does what he should. He wants to ask what happened, maybe make a stupid joke – but as he sees Kakuzu’s arm, words just get stuck in his throat.  
Because deep long cuts on his inner forearm going along the veins – these definitely don’t look like battle wounds.

Kakuzu catches his look and rolls down his sleeve, covering the cuts.

“What do you want?” he frowns.

“What is this?” Hidan asks, ignoring his question. “What. Is. This?”

“None of your business,” Kakuzu’s voice is empty, just like his eyes – lifeless, hollow. “If you didn’t need anything, leave me alone.”

Hidan doesn’t know why he snaps, he just does, feeling furious anger boiling inside him, overwhelming him. He grabs Kakuzu’s wrist, rolls up his sleeve, exposing the cut skin.

“Are you fucking mad?” Hidan barely even notices his voice breaking. “No, have you lost your fucking mind? Shit, why the fuck... what the fuck?!”

“I told you it’s none of your business,” Kakuzu repeats in the same lifeless tone. Previously, he’d try to put Hidan in his place, punch or strangle – something, not just sitting like that and looking as if everything’s fine.

“Why?” Hidan kneels next to him, looks him in the eyes, trying to see some hint of emotion in them. “Fuck, just... why? Do you really want to die that much? Should’ve told me, I’d gladly do that! You’d become a sacrifice to Jashin-sama... a part of something grand, a great end to your miserable life! So? Want me to kill you now?” Hidan isn’t serious, even though it’s an awful joke. And he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Kakuzu says ‘yes’.

He won’t be able to...

“I’m not willing to die just yet,” Kakuzu shakes his head, a hint of irritation in his voice, though barely noticeable. “And I didn’t want to kill myself.”

Hidan exhales, trying to hide his relief.

“Then why?” He nods at the cuts. They’re still fresh, swollen around the edges, barely healed. And there are also older scars on his skin, paler, but still visible. How long has he been doing this? Hidan feels angry again, but he tries to stay calm.  _Why does he even care?_

Kakuzu pauses before replying. “It... helps.”

“Helps? What are you talking about?” Hidan asks. He can’t wrap his head around it. How can wounds and pain help? For him, the wounds he inflicts on himself during rituals are a blessing, and pain strengthens his connection to Jashin. But Kakuzu doesn’t believe in Jashin, he doesn’t believe in anything, so what is this supposed to mean?

“Well, I suppose... it makes me feel less disgusting,” Kakuzu seems to regret saying it this instant, but nope, you can’t take it back, Hidan thinks.

But what in the name of Jashin... this sounds so fucked up. And what is Hidan supposed to do now?

“Forget it,” Kakuzu winces as he tries to free his arm from the grasp, but Hidan doesn’t let go. “Hidan. Let go.”

“You...” Hidan looks at him confusedly. “You should bandage your arm or something. Or it’s gonna fucking get infected. And you’ll die. Not that I give a fuck... I just don’t want to go on with the mission on my own, y’know?”

No response. Kakuzu seems completely lost inside himself again, ignoring Hidan’s presence. Cursing, he reaches for his bag and searches for something – of course, what did he even expect. No bandages, no anything.  _Fuck you,_  he thinks,  _fucking miser_.  _What if you were seriously injured?_ Hidan isn’t a medic, he doesn’t know shit about medical techniques.  _How can you be such a fucking idiot?_  Hidan snaps his fingers in front of Kakuzu’s face, trying to get his attention; punches him hard in the jaw when no reaction follows – but instead of wringing his arm or fighting back in some other way, Kakuzu stays frozen in place, dazed.

“Fuck,” Hidan drawls.

He rips his own cloak, uses the kunai to cut the fabric into rough uneven pieces; a shitty replacement for bandages, but it’s better than nothing. He wraps the cloth around Kakuzu’s arm from his wrist to his elbow, cursing quietly. Kakuzu still doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t react at all. Hidan grabs his shoulder, shakes him a little, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Fuck,” Hidan sighs loudly. “You asshole... Why the fuck do I even bother with you? You think I have nothing better to do?”

Silence.

Hidan holds his breath. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know if he should. He just doesn’t want to see Kakuzu like this; he’s not supposed to behave like this.

The only thing Hidan can do is press his forehead against Kakuzu’s shoulder and say quietly, “Please.” He’s not sure ‘please’ what. Stop being like this? Go back to your usual fucking annoying self? He just repeats it again, almost desperately, hoping it will get at least some reaction out of him – but to no avail.

 

_“He’s worried about you, nii-san,” Shimizu says, looking at him, her eyes narrowed._

_“Nonsense.” Kakuzu can’t help but look at her thin neck, where her tanned skin is stained with purple black markings – bruises. Traces of fingers. Imouto didn’t deserve this. “Hidan doesn’t care about me.”_ Even though I want him to.

_“You think so,” Shimizu objects, “but you’ll understand. Later. Just try not to make it too late, okay?”_

_Kakuzu doesn’t know why his sister cares for Hidan and his relationship with him, but he nods. It’s easier to agree than to keep on arguing. Right now, he doesn’t want to think of anything._

_Shimizu sighs sadly before dissolving into the air completely._

 

_I broke, I broke them one by one_

 

Soft, gentle hands stroke his hair carefully; Kakuzu raises his head and freezes, seeing his mother’s serious face.

“What... are you doing here?” he asks.

Mother smiles faintly, sadly; sits down next to him on the dirty floor.

“I couldn’t leave you like this,” she looks around. “Not now.”

Kakuzu is silent. He doesn’t know what to say. Mother doesn’t wait for his answer; she reaches out her pale hand, strokes his cheek softly. Kakuzu grimaces painfully at the touch, and she moves her hand away, looking guilty.

“You’re all bloody,” she says. “Did they torture you?”

 _It would’ve been better if they did_ , Kakuzu wants to say, but instead he just shrugs. She doesn’t need to know.

Mother frowns, looking at him. Her stare makes him nervous. Kakuzu thinks she sees right through him, and he can’t, he just can’t look at her now. He turns away, looks down at the floor, at the dried traces of blood. Images of last night flash before his eyes again –

_“If you behave, maybe we won’t hurt you too much.”_

Kakuzu inhales sharply, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turn pale, and feels his eyes burn for some reason. He won’t think about it, he’ll just pretend that nothing happened, that everything is okay, everything’s fine.

“You can cry if you want,” mother says quietly. “It’s okay to cry if you’re scared and hurt. It’ll get better.”

Kakuzu shakes his head, closes his eyes, He won’t show weakness anymore. Even in front of her. But mother puts her arms on his shoulders, draws him closer, whispers something softly; and Kakuzu feels like he’s losing it. He wraps his arms around her, squeezes the soft fabric of her kimono.

“I’m sorry,” it’s hard to breathe and even harder to speak, “for letting you down. For disappointing you.”

“Disappointing?” Mother’s voice sounds surprised. “Nonsense, Kakuzu. You will never disappoint me.”

Kakuzu holds her tight and stays like that for several long minutes. Mother strokes his back, whispering soothing words, and it does get somewhat better. It’s still not alright, but it’s better with her by his side.

Until she says, her voice just as soft, but the words cut through him, “It’s horrible, what they did to you,” she sounds as if she knows everything, “but you know that you deserved it, don’t you?”

Kakuzu shivers but doesn’t look up, only squeezing her clothes tighter. She goes on – calmly, mercilessly.

“Yes, you deserved it... But don’t worry,” she presses him close to her, “I’m always with you. A mother can never hate her son,” her voice softens, “even if he is a monster.”

Kakuzu raises his head to face her – but all he sees is the empty cell. There’s no one here except for him.

_Of course._

Kakuzu straightens and leans back against the wall, staring sightlessly before himself.

Somebody’s footsteps echo through the corridor, and Kakuzu turns his head to the sound. Hanako stands right next to the metal bars, with a serious look on her face and her lips pressed tightly together. She watches him with a strange expression – a mix of pity, disdain and something else.  
Kakuzu holds his breath as he sees the keys in her hands. She plays with them, as if mocking him.  _Just reach out – and the freedom is yours._

But Kakuzu knows better than to fool himself; Hanako can easily stop him now. But will she?

“Hello,” Hanako speaks up. “I’m... sorry it came to this.”

There is no hint of compassion in her voice, which is to be expected.

“I don’t mean just your imprisonment,” she looks away for a brief second. “I’ve... heard what they- I mean, they told me. Is it true?”

There’s hope in her eyes, and he doesn’t know what she hopes to hear. That it’s true? Most likely. Even after all these years she hasn’t forgiven him for Akira’s death. She must be happy seeing him like this now. So broken, defeated.

“Fuck you,” Kakuzu says. “Just leave.”

Hanako takes a deep breath, and for a moment, she seems close to crying.

“No matter what you think,” she says, “I don’t hate you.”

She’s standing so close; the keys in her thin delicate palms are glistening in the torchlight.

Reach out, and the freedom is yours.

Kakuzu doesn’t think twice when he lunges forward; when he grabs Hanako’s throat through the metal bars, squeezes tight, breaking her neck.  
He takes the keys that fell near her body, opens the door of the cell -

_Hanako is dead._

Why doesn’t he feel anything?

 

Later, standing over the elders’ dead bodies, biting his lips as the pain burns through his body, tears it apart – _but it’s a small price for power_ – Kakuzu thinks that mother was right.

_Just like all times._

 

_but if you are here and choose to be real_

 

The door is locked when Hidan tries to open it. And this can only mean one thing.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks angrily, and knocks at the door as hard as he can.

“Kakuzu, you fucking bastard!”

“Go away,” he replies, his voice muffled and strangely tense.

Hidan remembers what happened before – and he’s not worried; he’s fucking scared out of his mind.

“Hey, you asshole, this is my room as well in case you forgot,” he tries to sound steadily, but his nervousness still shows. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing there, let me in!”

There’s silence for a long time, and Hidan is ready to kick the door down just like that time – no, of course he can just leave, but something just doesn’t let him. Suddenly, the door opens. Hidan freezes in place. Kakuzu is without his usual mask, and his long hair are tied up, revealing the face. Clean, without any makeup – Hidan forces a nervous laugh back down his throat. Well, Kakuzu looks just... normal. The stitches are weird, but otherwise...   
He stares at Hidan with an unreadable expression in his eyes but doesn’t seem very angry at his intrusion. Hidan even thinks he sees relief in his eyes, but he’s never been good in reading emotions to say for sure.

“Come in,” Kakuzu says dryly, turning around, and Hidan steps into the room.

Kakuzu locks the door again – why such precautions? It’s not like anyone is gonna bust into their room. All Akatsuki members understand the need for privacy, and they are smart enough not to risk starting a fight.

Well, none of this applies to Hidan, of course.

He looks around the room, notices the cosmetics on Kakuzu’s bed – lipstick, eyeliner, some kind of powder and other... stuff he has no idea how to call.  
How cute.  
He can’t think of a decent joke, though, and his mind wanders back to that night – and Kakuzu’s red lips – _fuck it!_  He shakes his head and just stares at Kakuzu. He turns away, irritated, and Hidan grabs his hand – not really knowing why. He looks – and he barely suppresses the urge to just shout at him or punch his stupid face when he sees fresh cuts – slightly healed, not bleeding, but still fresh. Made yesterday, two days ago, at most.

_Fuck. Why the fuck, why can’t he just stop?_

“Why?” Hidan asks quietly.

Kakuzu shoves his hand off, still not looking at him.

“None of your business,” he says sharply, but Hidan never listened to him – and he’s certainly not about to start now.

“You do understand that this shit won’t make you feel better, right?” Hidan reaches out, only to be pushed away again.

“It always does.” But there’s still uncertainty in his seemingly indifferent tone.

Hidan is so sick of it, and he has no idea what to say and how to help; and Kakuzu is so fucking stubborn Hidan’s sure he won’t accept any help. So Hidan just shrugs. “Fuck you, then. Do what you want.”

“What do you want from me?” Kakuzu asks tiredly.

“Nothing!” Hidan snaps angrily. “Fuck. You fucking piss me off.”

“Then leave me alone already.”

Hidan frowns and shakes his head. Looks him in the eye – try and make me leave. Kakuzu says nothing. So he’s ignoring him now, great. But at least he doesn’t kick him out of the room, so Hidan considers that a victory.  
Kakuzu sits on the bed and starts to go through his cosmetics, glancing at Hidan now and again – he seems tense, as if Hidan’s presence makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t speak, though; so Hidan doesn’t leave.

The silence, broken only by their breathing, is somewhat awkward; but Hidan forgets about it pretty soon. He watches as Kakuzu applies white powder on his face and neck – and fuck, it looks crazy, but also fascinating.  _Disgusting_ , he wants to think, but the only word that comes to mind instead is  _‘beautiful’_.

Kakuzu turns to him and frowns, annoyed at such attention; and Hidan comes closer.

“Go on,” he sits next to him, “I want to see more.”

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_  is clearly visible in Kakuzu’s eyes, but he does go on.

His face – completely white now, only with a bit of black and red around the eyes – seems really beautiful. Especially with his hair tied back, not hiding his sharp features anymore; the makeup actually suits him. Hidan wants to smack himself over the head for thinking that, but...  Even the stitches aren’t so bad – or Hidan is just so crazy he doesn’t give a fuck. Maybe both.

“You’re so fucked up,” Hidan shifts a bit, moving closer to see every little detail. “But it’s better.”

Kakuzu looks at him, confused, as he runs the lipstick over his lips, and Hidan clenches his fists – this is so... insane – amazing.

“Well, um... This white stuff looks much better on you than... what you had when I saw you that night,” Hidan really has no idea how to call this makeup... style? Shit. Why is he even thinking about it. Why is he here.

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, but the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, as if he’s holding back a smile – and Hidan notices it again.  
_His lips._  
His lips are glossy red, just like then; but now, in the daylight, it looks so much more...

_Fuck._

Hidan sucks in a ragged breath.

“I think I’m fucking crazy, too,” he says, reaching out. “Cause I really fucking want to kiss you now.”

Kakuzu shudders and stares at him, his eyes wide as if he’s seen a fucking ghost, no less. Hidan touches his face uncertainly. The powder feels sticky on his fingers, but it’s not all that off-putting. It’s just... normal. Like it should be.

Hidan really has gone crazy. Not that he minds. Not like he wasn’t somewhat crazy before all this.

“Can I?” he asks.

He could kiss Kakuzu without asking, but he doesn’t want to. Now this would be something really wrong. He’s not sure why he feels this way... but it’d be wrong. He doesn’t want it like this.

Kakuzu says nothing for a long time, and Hidan starts to think that ‘no’ will be his answer.

But he says:

“If you want to.”

 _If you really want to,_  Hidan hears in this uncertainty in his voice.

Well, Hidan wants to – and he kisses him, slowly, carefully. He’s more used to roughness, almost violence; but for some reason he doesn’t want to be rough with Kakuzu. He doesn’t want to hurt him even a bit – because someone had already done it, far worse than Hidan could have. He doesn’t know for sure, of course, but there has to be a reason for him acting all strange... Fuck it, he’s not going to think about it now.

Kakuzu’s lips taste slightly sweet because of that lipstick – something fruity or cherry, and it’s kinda weird, but also exciting.

At first, Kakuzu doesn’t react, doesn’t move at all, simply letting Hidan do whatever he wants. But when Hidan, tired of this one-sided nonsense, wants to pull away, Kakuzu suddenly starts to kiss back, taking control; he puts his warm hand on Hidan’s cheek, stroking gently, and Hidan feels like he can’t breathe – but it’s good. It’s fucking amazing when Kakuzu wants it, not simply gives into him.

Better than fucking amazing. Hidan can’t even describe this feeling, so he just enjoys it while it lasts.

Kakuzu breaks the kiss abruptly and turns away. Great. What is it this time? Hidan touches his face carefully, making him look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you need it?” Kakuzu asks hoarsely.

Hidan doesn’t really know – he always does what he wants, not thinking why he wants it. But he’s sure somehow that Kakuzu won’t be satisfied with this answer, so he tries his best to explain himself.

“I just... fuck, I just wanted to.” _Great, Hidan, fucking great_. “I kinda like you... so why not?” Hidan takes a deep breath. Like, yes, he likes Kakuzu – but admitting it sounds strange. He wouldn’t do that, but it’s better to be upfront than play games. “Well, if you don’t want me or something, I won’t-“

Kakuzu presses his lips against Hidan’s, silencing him, and this kiss feels different. It’s tender and so desperate for some reason, and it also hurts – not physically, somewhere deep inside. Hidan doesn’t know why; he tries to distance from this feeling, focusing on the good things.

There’s a lot of those; the way Kakuzu’s holding him, pressing him close; the way he kisses him slowly, gently, leaving this sticky sweetness on his lips; the way he’s stroking his hair, his face. Hidan breathes hard, barely suppressing a moan, grinding against him. It’s not what Hidan’s used to, not like with anyone before; now’s the first time he’s willing to pass control over to someone, the first time he wants someone so much. It almost scares him.

Hidan moves away, trying to catch a breath. He clutches Kakuzu’s shoulders, looks at him – his face, his lips, noticing the lipstick smeared a bit at the corners of his mouth. He still doesn’t really get why he finds the image so exciting.  
He tries not to look Kakuzu in the eyes. Looking at his lips is fine, though. Fuck. Why is this so fucking...  _sexy_.  
Hidan feels his face burning, and fuck, why is he reacting like this.

“Hidan,” Kakuzu’s fingers brush lightly against his cheek, his lips, wiping away lipstick stains – Hidan didn’t even realize he got some of that on himself. Kakuzu’s touch feels nice, though, so warm. He leans in, closing his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ain’t I always,” Hidan grins. He’s feeling uneasy, and his growing arousal doesn’t help one bit. The way Kakuzu’s looking at him is... strange.

Hidan forces himself to move away; not letting go of Kakuzu, though. What’s with that look? Hidan thinks Kakuzu’s amused by all this, but at the same time, discomfort is clearly seen in his eyes. Fear, even – hidden deep inside, but still visible.

_’Don’t touch me, stay away, leave me alone’._

Hidan isn’t sure what caused this. If Kakuzu didn’t want anything, he could’ve said so.

“Hey,” Hidan says. “We... don’t have to, y’know? If you don’t want me.” Hidan would actually love to fuck Kakuzu now – or the other way around, it’s all good for him; but it definitely doesn’t feel right.

Kakuzu doesn’t seem to listen to him, instead kissing him again – only to pull away in a second and get down on his knees between Hidan’s spread legs. What the fuck, Hidan thinks, but he has no time to protest – or even process what’s going on. And when Kakuzu pulls Hidan’s pants down and takes his cock into his mouth, there’s no thoughts left in his head.  
All Hidan can do is curse under his breath, because this now is totally not what he expected, but it’s great – and he’d never think Kakuzu would be so fucking good at this.  
Hidan bites his lips, trying to hold back a moan, reaches out to loosen Kakuzu’s hair – clumsily, with his hands shaking like crazy; and it’s so soft, his hair, Hidan would never think it’d be so fucking soft; but he likes it, and it just adds to the overall pleasure.  
Kakuzu is fucking teasing him, Hidan thinks, going too slow; but it’s good, how his lips slide over his cock, and when Hidan sees this fucking lipstick all over his skin, he’s certain it might just be too much.

Kakuzu moves away – he doesn’t look up, but Hidan sees him smiling, and it looks strange; but he stops thinking altogether when Kakuzu licks the tip of his cock and then runs his tongue along the length a few times.

“Fuck,” Hidan breathes, “fucking... tease.”

Kakuzu ignores his plea, taking his time – as if he’s enjoying it, too. Great if so, but Hidan wants more – he’s not going to beg for it, though. He strokes Kakuzu’s hair, tangling his fingers in the soft strands, and this seems to do the trick. Kakuzu makes a strange sound and takes Hidan’s cock into his mouth again, this time sucking harder – faster, just how Hidan wants it. It feels too good, everything’s too much – probably because it’s Kakuzu of all people who’s on his knees before him now, and though Hidan thought of getting it on with him once or twice (or more) before, but never like this.  
And it sends him over the edge, his orgasm hitting him suddenly – and it feels damn strong, stronger than ever before. Hidan thrusts into Kakuzu’s mouth, trying to prolong this moment of pleasure, but firm hands on his thighs hold him in place.

Kakuzu pulls away, ignoring Hidan’s disappointed groan, looks him right in the eyes. And fuck, no one’s ever looked at Hidan this way, with such sensible yearning, admiration – almost  _love_ , and this look drives him crazy; if he didn’t come just a few seconds earlier, he’s sure he would now.

Hidan feels his heart beating fast and his whole body trembling, and he feels lightheaded; what the fuck is wrong with him, a simple blowjob doing this to him.  
He slumps down on the floor next to Kakuzu, not sure what to say or do.  
Kakuzu doesn’t say anything, simply staring at Hidan. His long hair is all messy with some strands stuck to the skin, and lipstick and cum is smeared all over his mouth and chin, and it looks...

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“Fuck,” Hidan exhales. “You’re... I don’t even. Fuck. I told you it’s okay if you don’t want to-“

“No one will make me do something I don’t want to,” Kakuzu says, and it sounds strange; but Hidan forgets about it as Kakuzu pulls him into a tight embrace, stroking his hair gently.

Hidan presses closer to him, enjoying the sudden intimacy. It’s strange, it’s all so fucking strange and kinda wrong; but Hidan feels pleasantly exhausted and so calm, and he doesn’t want to think about anything. Wrong, right – since when does he care about this shit?

He’s feeling too good right now to bother with anything else.

“Hidan,” Kakuzu says suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Huh?”

“Hidan,” Kakuzu repeats. “Hidan...” He’s just saying his name over and over with a strange emotion, and this – well, this freaks Hidan out quite a bit.

“What’s wrong?” he asks carefully.

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, holding him closer instead; and it’s almost as if he’s holding onto Hidan like he’s his only salvation.

What the fuck. Hidan shakes his head, irritated. What is he thinking.

But still...

“I’m fine.”

Kakuzu’s voice sounds steady and emotionless, like before. Hidan would even believe him – but he feels something is definitely not right with him.

He doesn’t say that out loud, knowing too well that nobody likes others prying too hard.

Hidan just stays close to Kakuzu like this – until he finally lets go.

“Sorry... for all that.” He turns away, trying not to meet his gaze.

“You... fucking idiot,” Hidan reaches to squeeze his hand gently and grits his teeth, feeling the cuts underneath his fingers. He almost forgot about them. He strokes the cuts gently, trying not to hurt – he’s not sure it’ll make Kakuzu feel better; probably not. But he doesn’t know what else he can do. “What are you sorry for? It was fucking great. I should be sorry,” Hidan chuckles, “I didn’t do anything for you to get off.”

Kakuzu stays silent, and Hidan leans in to kiss him again – but when their lips meet, Kakuzu backs away in an instant – and then freezes in place.

“What is it again?” Hidan whispers hastily. “What the fuck?”

Kakuzu hugs him again, and Hidan stops understanding what’s going on at all. The words that follow don’t explain anything.

“Sorry. Just... don’t do that for now. I...” he trails off, his breathing rapid and heavy.

“You mean, not to kiss you?” Hidan asks. He wants to ask – what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you freaking out like this – but he waits until Kakuzu decides to tell him everything himself.

“Yes,” Kakuzu squeezes him tightly. Hidan winces – his grip is too hard, but he says nothing. It’s fine.

“Okay,” Hidan tries his best to sound soft and soothing, even though it probably comes out awkward as fuck. “Shit, you’re... really fucked up. But I’m... I’m here.” He adds as an afterthought, but he means it: “If you wanna tell me... I’m ready to listen, yeah.”

Kakuzu sighs, barely audibly – he sounds tired and devastated. “I won’t. You shouldn’t... think about it.”

“Whatever you say,” Hidan doesn’t argue. “It’s your choice, really, I’m not going to pry.”

“How can you be so...” Kakuzu doesn’t finish.

“ _So_?” Hidan moves away slightly, looks at him and grins. “Amazing? Kind and understanding? I’m well aware I’m fucking perfect.”

Hidan isn’t sure, but he thinks Kakuzu’s smiling – a little, but still. In a few seconds his smile gets more lively, open – even though the pain is still there in his eyes. Hidan wants to kiss him again, but he dismisses the thought, remembering his request.

“Like this,” he caresses his cheek, ruining the makeup completely – but who gives a fuck, really. “Smile. There’s no need for all this shit, it’s okay.”

“With you,” Kakuzu says quietly. “It’s better with you.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere,” Hidan assures him. “Even if you get sick of me in a few days and tell me to fuck off, I won’t, you’re stuck with me till death do us part.” He’s almost ready to laugh because it does sound hella funny – but Kakuzu’s look makes laughter die in his throat. Yeah. Not fucking funny, considering the situation.

“Why?”

Hidan shrugs, “who knows. Do you really need a reason? Why don’t you just accept it as it is? I’m staying, everything’s cool. No?”

“You don’t understand,” Kakuzu smiles again, and his smile is wide and completely unnatural, forced; and his voice is full of this unnatural nervous joy, as if he’s close to a breaking point. “You don’t understand.”

Hidan can’t find any words to say, but he feels awful – because he can’t do anything, he can’t help.

 

_all my wounds, all my wounds will not heal_

 

Kakuzu looks in the mirror as he twists his hair up and secures it with a pin, making sure it’s not visible – yes, it looks alright now. Still – so strange.

“I would never think you were into such things,” Madara speaks behind his back, and Kakuzu flinches.

“You’re not any better, asking me to do this in front of you,” he snarls back angrily. “What do you like about it?”

Madara laughs, but there’s no joy in this viscous laughter. It’s fake to the core – just like Madara himself.

“So, how long have you been... doing this?” he wonders. With almost genuine curiosity – but of course, ‘genuine’ can’t really be applied to Madara.

 _For quite some time,_  Kakuzu could say.

 

 _“Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you there!” Akira apologizes clumsily as he nearly runs into him. Grabs his hand, helping him to get up, tries to dust down his kimono and stops, looking all embarrassed as Kakuzu shoves him off._  
_“It’s alright,” he says, and his trembling voice breaks – Akira will recognize him, he definitely will. It’s hard enough to maintain the voice changing technique – it’s not even changing his voice that much._  
_“What’s your name?” Akira asks, his smile bright and sincere. “I’m Akira, Hayashi Akira.”_  
_I know, he almost says, but stops himself before it’s too late._  
_“I’m...” he tries to remember some name, any name. “K-ka... Katsumi, my name’s Katsumi,” he finally manages._  
_“Nice meeting you, Katsumi-chan,” Akira’s smile seems to widen. Kakuzu can’t help but smile back, no matter how awkward it must look._

 

Kakuzu says nothing.

He won’t tell Madara about this of all things; about how pathetic he was. Though... is it really that different now?

Luckily, Madara doesn’t seem to be all that interested in his answer. He looks at Kakuzu – and something flickers in his eyes, something savage, dark.

“Only a true connoisseur can see something fascinating in such a revolting image,” he says. His voice is soft, but his words sound outright mocking.

Kakuzu swallows the remains of his pride, ignoring the insult; he really doesn’t need another seventy-two hours of being trapped in a genjutsu, enduring endless torture. Madara isn’t even creative enough to come up with something new at least now and then. Not that it’d make anything better...

Kakuzu turns to the mirror again, prepares to put the makeup on; damned Uchiha finally shuts up, simply watching him. It’s a distraction, but Kakuzu doesn’t really have a say in all this, so he tries to just focus on what he’s doing.

He applies the white on his face, but the stitches still stand out – no matter how many layers he tries to cover them with. Kakuzu tilts his head to the side, studying his reflection.

How disgusting.

But it’s the best he can manage, so he goes on.

He outlines his eyes with black, paints his lips in bloody red. The lipstick glistens in the dim light of the room; and his face looks like a grotesque mask.

But it’s better this way.

Because he can’t really look at himself without all that.

He fixes his hair, pushing some loose strands of hair behind his ear; turns to Madara.

His red eyes almost pierce him – and for a moment, Kakuzu thinks it’d be great if they did pierce, he’d rather die than stand like this, revealing everything he’s hidden for so long under this laughing gaze.

Perhaps Madara likes it – breaking him, turning him inside out – and then watching,  _watching_ , barely holding the laugh.

Because he knows – there will be no retaliation, Kakuzu is too afraid. He’s like a dog who’s barking on everyone furiously but cowers on the ground and whines when its owner swings at it.

Because it doesn’t want to die – and Kakuzu doesn’t want to die, either.

“Something’s missing,” Madara drawls, coming up to him and staring in his face. He’s almost studying him, as if he wants to remember every little detail – and this ravenous look of his makes everything so much worse.

Kakuzu wants to look away, but he can’t; as if his body is not his own. Madara’s fingers touch his lips lightly – the red traces stay on his pale skin – and he smirks. “I know.”

He reaches to the drawer, fumbling in search for something, not even looking.

“Turn around,” Madara grips his shoulder firmly, and Kakuzu does as he’s told.

Madara does something with his hair; in the reflection, Kakuzu sees – he’s placing a flower-decorated kanzashi in his hair; even in such faint light, it shines slightly. Madara looks satisfied as he takes a few steps back to admire his work. And it does look good, Kakuzu can admit that much; but the way Madara smiles at him makes him sick.

“What’s that for?” he asks grimly.

He’s not asking just about the kanzashi – about everything. What does Madara need it for, why is he doing all of this?

“I like it,” Madara replies simply. “I want it.”

Kakuzu thinks he understood – and answered his unasked question.

But it doesn’t make it easier at all.

 

_that it hurts it’s hard to say_

 

Fear.

Disgust.

Anger.

Helplessness, because nobody will come to his aid, nobody knows he’s here – nobody would care even if they knew.

Madara laughs softly, running his hand over the tight bandage wrapping Kakuzu’s chest. “You’re so careless,” he murmurs. “What if I wasn’t there?”

 _I’d die, and it all would be finally over,_ Kakuzu thinks, but he can’t even open his mouth not to mention say anything. He’s drowning in Madara’s red eyes, suffocating – and still he can’t do anything.

Madara’s hand moves up to his neck, his face – strokes the skin almost gently. His fingers are cold, making Kakuzu shiver – but he doesn’t move away. He can’t move.

He doesn’t really want to.

Nobody cares. Madara does – in his own way.

He’s not harming him much. Not right now, at least.

“You’ve been a great help to me so far,” Madara’s low voice seems to envelop him, clouding his thoughts. Kakuzu feels like he’s trapped – deep under water, he can’t breathe. “I do appreciate it.”

Madara leans close, and his lips touch Kakuzu’s lightly. It feels wrong – everything in it is wrong; but somewhat relieving, too.

He’s not alone.

Not that he wants Madara near – but it’s better than  _no one._

Kakuzu feels cold hands stroking his shoulders, pushing him onto the bed firmly. He obeys, not really in a position to protest.

“I won’t hurt you if you don’t resist,” Madara says. “You might even like it.” His eyes flash a brighter shade of red, and they are the only thing Kakuzu sees in the darkness surrounding him.

Maybe it’s for the best.

He’s not sure he wants to see whatever comes next.

He doesn’t want to feel it, too – but feeling is what he can’t stop doing.

It’s alright, just like always – nothing he can’t handle.

 

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Hidan grins a little, coming up to him. “Waiting for me?” He leans closer, kissing him casually – and pulls away when Kakuzu tenses immediately.

“Hey, what is it? Come on, it’s just me!” Hidan looks at him, trying to read his expression – and failing. “It’s me,” he repeats, thinking that Kakuzu might have mistaken him for an enemy or something like this. It’s unlikely, but why else would he react this way?

Last time he reacted the same.

Hidan still doesn’t get why; it’s not like he did anything wrong. He was actually as sweet as ever – well, he tried to be. But something seems to be wrong with Kakuzu lately – and no matter what Hidan does, it doesn’t help.

“I know,” Kakuzu replies. “Hidan.”

He’s acting strange again.

“I know what my name is,” Hidan scoffs. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kakuzu doesn’t answer, staring at his hands silently.

Hidan suppresses a sigh and moves closer once more, kisses his lips slowly. Kakuzu doesn’t kiss back, but he doesn’t move, either. No matter what Hidan does. Only when Hidan runs his hand down Kakuzu’s chest, he reacts – but it’s not the reaction Hidan was hoping for. Not that at all.

But it’s probably what he should’ve expected.

“Don’t,” Kakuzu pushes him away gently. “Hidan. Don’t.”

“What’s wrong?” Hidan shakes his head, looking at him confusedly. “I’m not hurting you, right?”

“You’re not,” Kakuzu agrees, trailing his fingers along Hidan’s cheek. “But you might.”

Hidan wants to say something, but Kakuzu doesn’t even let him open his mouth as he goes on.

“And it’s okay if you hurt me. But I might hurt you in return, and hurting you is something I don’t ever want to do again.”

_What._

_What the fuck._

“Hey!” Hidan looks at him, wide-eyed. “What the... I’m not going to hurt you, why would I?”

“Don’t they all say that...” Kakuzu muses quietly, glancing to the side.

_What. The. Fuck._

“Sorry,” he turns to face him again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t... What are you even- fuck.” Hidan takes a deep breath. “Okay... Look, when I’m doing this,” he wraps his arms around Kakuzu’s shoulders, pressing close to him. “Are you hurt now?”

“I... No. I don’t think so.” Kakuzu sounds unsure, and his body is still so tense; but he isn’t pushing him away anymore, and it’s  _something_.

“So can I stay like this?” Hidan asks softly and nuzzles his neck.

“Yes,” Kakuzu replies faintly after a pause and embraces Hidan as well, so carefully as if he’s afraid of touching him.

They don’t say anything else for a long while.

Hidan doesn’t know what is there to say. He’s not good at that. He just doesn’t want to see Kakuzu like this, ever; but he also can’t really do much.

_Fuck it all._

Why does he even care about Kakuzu? It’s so fucking stupid.

 

_cause you won’t hear it anyway_

 

“Look,” Akira moves closer, elbowing him. “Hanako-chan is so beautiful.”

Kakuzu mutters something under his breath. Hanako is beautiful, that much is true. Fair skin, long raven-black hair that she always keeps down, letting it flow over her shoulders; hazel eyes that spark with joy and determination. Her thin and delicate features, her perfect body with all the right curves in all the right places.  
Beautiful, perfect Hanako who attracts the gaze of every man.

If someone asked Kakuzu, he’d say that Akira is much more beautiful. His short red hair, swept to the side carelessly, his freckled skin, his blue eyes, deep as the damn sea, with faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes due to his frequent smiles; his chapped, bitten lips – a childish habit Akira never quit. His body, too, is nothing less than attractive. He’s lean, more wiry than muscular, but no one would dare call him weak.

Akira looks at Hanako with amused tenderness.  
Kakuzu only sees Akira.

No matter how beautiful a woman is, she’s of no interest to him. A man would be – but not just any man. Akira is. It’s all about Akira: his eyes, his smile, his stupid jokes no one else ever laughs at.

There’s something special in Akira, and Kakuzu can’t really explain it; but there’s no need to. In any case, he’ll never speak about his foolish, unwanted feelings that only distract him from the task at hand.

But still it’s hard, painful even – somewhere deep inside.

There’s nothing surprising in Akira liking women, and there’s nothing unexpected in him liking Hanako – their teammate who’s been by their side for many years and who is so shamelessly beautiful.

“Kakuzu, are you listening to me?” Akira puts a hand on his shoulder, and there’s genuine worry in his eyes.

Kakuzu forces a smile, shaking his head. “Of course. Go and ask her out if you like her,” he turns away again.

“Do you think she’ll agree?” Akira frowns a bit, and it’s funny and somewhat cute, this expression – no, stop thinking about it. “I’d like to, but what if Hanako-chan likes someone else?”

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Kakuzu grimaces as he says these words. “Don’t be a coward, Akira. Or someone braver will take her before you.”

Akira falls silent, thinking over something. Is he unsure? Unsure of what, Kakuzu wonders. Whether Hanako is interested in him? As if she can be not interested in someone like Akira. Or perhaps he’s unsure of his feelings towards her... It would be stupid to hope for that.  
Kakuzu feels Hanako’s gaze on himself, turns to her – she smiles warmly and somewhat reassuringly.

He can’t shake away the feeling that she sees right through him. Well, who wouldn’t see; all the glances he secretly throws at Akira, the almost sensible tension when they are too close. Only a fool like Akira, of course; but Kakuzu is glad he doesn’t notice anything.

If the truth comes out, their friendship will never be same – and it’s almost the only thing Kakuzu cherishes more than his own life.

 

_in case you won’t come but run and flee_

 

Mother – thin, pale, with her kimono torn open on her chest, with black hair all soaked in now dried blood. Blood is on her unnaturally calm face, on the floor, on the wall. She’s not breathing, dead.  _Please, no._

Shimizu – her mouth twisted in a silent scream – or an attempt to breathe in. On her thin neck are the hideous bruises left by merciless hands.  _Imouto, how could I let this happen._

Father lies beside Shimizu, and blood is flowing from underneath his body. There’s a bloodied kunai held tightly in imouto’s hands, and Kakuzu can’t hold back a pained spiteful grin – _and again, you’ve forgotten we’re shinobi, father._

But even if he’s got what he deserved, this won’t bring mother and sister back.

“This is your fault,” Kakuzu hears a painfully familiar voice and turns around.

Madara chuckles softly, almost friendly, but his eyes stay cold.

“It’s not,” Kakuzu tries to object, but he knows deep inside that Madara is right.

“Oh, yes it is,” Madara’s face changes, the features blur, dissolving into another face; and it’s father now looking at Kakuzu, his teeth bared in a nasty grin. “It’s your fault, you fucking brat. They were calling for you, they were screaming so hard – but you didn’t come, no, you didn’t save them. Useless, filthy pervert – you were too busy with that guy, weren’t you?”

“Shut up!” Kakuzu is ready to punch this despicable face he hates so much; but it changes again.

Hidan’s looking at him, not even trying to hide disgust and disdain in his eyes.

“Fuck, this is sick. I can’t even look at you. I’d sacrifice you to Jashin-sama, but you’re not worthy of it.”

Kakuzu takes a step towards him, reaching out with a strange hope – but Hidan backs away, his mouth twisting in disgust.

“What the fuck do you need from me, asshole?”

_I need you._

Hidan disappears, fades into the bloody darkness surrounding them; but Akira appears in his place. He shakes his head sadly, looks at Kakuzu with reproach.

“I was wrong about you. How could you hurt Hanako-chan?”

_I had no choice._

There is always a choice.

But there is no escape.

Kakuzu falls on his knees, and Akira come closer to him. Behind him – mother, Shimizu, father, Madara; and Hidan, a distant shadow.

_Hidan._

 

“Wake the fuck up already!”

 

Kakuzu gets up in an instant, looks around, startled. It’s a dream, just another crazy dream. He’s in the Akatsuki hideout, and his family is not here, nor is Akira or Madara.

_They’re long dead, forget them._

“What the fuck is happening to you?” Hidan asks.

They aren’t here, but Hidan is.

Kakuzu isn’t sure if he’s happy about it or not.

“Nothing.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t fucking order me around,” Hidan snarls. “And don’t ‘nothing’ me, you were screaming so loud I thought you might be dying; and you say it’s nothing? You fucking woke me up.”

“Do you want an apology?” Kakuzu suppresses a sigh of relief. It seems okay.

Hidan waves his hand; it’s hard to make out his expression in the darkness, but Kakuzu is sure he’s rolling his eyes now.

“I know I ain’t gonna get anything from you, so you can shove this apology up your ass.” He gets up from the bed, comes up to Kakuzu, leaning over him. “Are you alright?”

_No._

“Yes.”

Hidan raises his brow skeptically and sits next to him. “You’re a shitty liar.”

“What do you care,” Kakuzu turns away.

He feels like hell, and he wants to hold Hidan, press close to him – just to make the thoughts go away, forget everything at least for a short while. He doesn’t dare even touch him.

“I fucking care a lot,” Hidan seems to have read Kakuzu’s mind as he wraps his arms around his shoulders, buries his face in his hair – his voice sounds muffled and quiet when he speaks. “You’re also not hearing what you’re told.”

’You’re stuck with me till death do us part.’

Hidan and his jokes. Of course.

_Whose death will it be, I wonder._

Hidan’s immortal, of course, how could he forget about it.

Hidan says nothing more as if he knows it won’t help; but he stays with Kakuzu until the morning.

And it gets better. Not much, but still.

 

_you know, you know, it’s fine with me_

 

Doors and windows busted open; sickening smell of ash and smoke; and dead bodies inside the house. That’s what he sees when he returns home.

Hanako freezes behind his back, gasping quietly, but Kakuzu doesn’t even pay attention at her.

He sees only them – mother, Shimizu, father.

Mother is lying near the wall, all covered in blood, and there’s a bloody trail on the wall. One strong blow was enough to kill her; mother wasn’t a shinobi, she couldn’t really fight back whoever attacked her.

 _Whoever_... Kakuzu knows exactly who.

It was something to be expected, it was bound to happen sooner or later, because father was always too unstable – he was a freaking psycho, and there’s nothing surprising -

Why is Kakuzu thinking about it, how could he expect something like this?

He glances at Shi, and she didn’t just accept her fate like mother did; her numb cold fingers are still squeezing a kunai stained with father’s blood. There’s more blood on the floor, already dried; and imouto’s hair.

Perhaps she tried to run at first, but father grabbed her – and she cut her hair to break free. He still got her. He was still far stronger than Shi.  
Even retired, a shinobi remains a shinobi.

But imouto was a shinobi too, and she managed to kill him; not that it saved her.  
She was still a kid.  
She couldn’t hold out long enough for help to come – for Kakuzu to come.

Kakuzu looks at father’s dead body, and there’s no emotion in him. No anger, no satisfaction. Nothing.

“We couldn’t do anything,” Yamada says, guilt and sympathy in his voice. “Somebody saw the house burn, called us – but we couldn’t save anyone. Shit, I never thought the old man would lose his mind completely.”

Kakuzu is silent, kneeling next to Shimizu. He reaches out and strokes her face, ice-cold.

Her skin and clothes are burned a little; even though the fire had been stopped soon, it still got her. She was already dead by then. Maybe she didn’t feel any pain – Kakuzu hopes so, at least.

Her green eyes are open wide, looking sightlessly through him.

_’I’m sorry, Shi-chan’._

But all his apologies won’t make anything better, won’t change anything – she’s dead -

He lifts her small body carefully, holds her in his arms and closes his eyes.

First Akira, now them.

Did he anger some gods by any chance?

Kakuzu chuckles faintly. Nonsense. Madness. Not that the situation is exactly normal. It’s not; and his thoughts aren’t.

“Where’s Hayashi, by the way?” he hears Yamada ask.

Hanako’s voice trembles when she replies, “Akira-kun, he...” she takes a deep breath, and it’s obvious she’s barely holding back from crying. “He’s dead. The enemy shinobi, we thought we’d dealt with them, but they hunted down Akira-kun and...”

“Kami, this is horrible,” there’s a sincere sympathy in Yamada’s voice, but he’s not too concerned – of course, Akira wasn’t his friend -

He has no idea what Akira meant for Hanako or Kakuzu.

But it doesn’t matter, because Kakuzu needs no compassion.

It won’t change anything.

Kakuzu opens his eyes and sees mother – dead – who won’t smile at him so warmly and tenderly again.

He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to convince himself it’s just a dream.

But it’s real.

Shimizu’s cold unmoving body in his arms doesn’t let him forget that.

 

Kakuzu sits up on the bed, gasping for air. There’s a faint light coming through the curtains – it’s alright, he says to himself.

“What the fuck is it again,” Hidan mutters quietly beside him, and Kakuzu looks at him, confused – what is he doing in his bed?

Oh.

Kakuzu ruffles his hair furiously, angry not at Hidan, but at himself for appearing weak and useless once more. He never wanted Hidan to see him like this.

But on the other hand... he’s helping, even though his attempts aren’t perfect at all.

“Kakuzu,” Hidan says sleepily, fumbles in the air before finally grabbing his shoulder and pulling closer. “Stop it, seriously, come here.”

Kakuzu obeys, lies next to him – Hidan wraps his arms and legs around him, presses his face against his chest, whispers something incoherent and falls silent in a few moments, asleep again.

It’s strange, being so close to him.

There’s something in Hidan that reminds him of Akira; though upon closer inspection, there’s nothing similar between them. Except for maybe the frequent smiles and the easy-going attitude.

But there’s violence in Hidan that Akira never had, there’s anger and rage, contrasting with tenderness he sometimes shows.

Akira could always talk his way out of every situation, find the right approach to anyone – Hidan’s not good with words, he prefers action -

They are not alike at all, but Kakuzu sees the resemblance, albeit distant.

_How do they say – in the eyes of the beholder..._

Perhaps it’s because he loved Akira and loves Hidan.

 

Sometimes, Hidan is so alike Madara, and it’s frightening; but this resemblance is what Kakuzu would prefer to never notice.

 

_Because in the end, Hidan is not Akira nor Madara; he is just Hidan, a foul-mouthed idiot who somehow managed to become the one thing Kakuzu can hold on to._

 

_light that burned it’s out by now_

 

The festival is in full force; and Akira is late, as always. But it doesn’t matter, Kakuzu is ready to wait for him as long as it takes; he’s happy to see Akira, even if for a short time.

But Akira announces cheerfully that he’s going to spend the whole night with him; and Kakuzu can’t help but smile as he takes his hand.

Earlier, Akira lied to him and Hanako about having some urgent business in town to attend to. Kakuzu only nodded dryly, knowing he will be there tonight as well; Hanako, on the contrary, got angry. She wanted to head home as soon as possible, and Kakuzu understood her to an extent. Nobody ever likes long missions; even less when they become longer for no reason. But Kakuzu could only be concerned by Akira – now and always.

It’s the last day of deceit, the last day of having to wear this disguise that seems to have got under his skin; and it’s also the last day of this insane, unreal happiness just to be near Akira.

“Katsumi-chan,” Akira smiles warmly as he wraps his arm around Kakuzu’s waist; and he doesn’t seem one bit concerned that the ‘girl’ is taller than him and ‘her’ body is much more well-built. How can he ignore such obvious things? “Let’s make this a night to remember.”

“Of course,” Kakuzu looks at Akira and can’t get enough of it, because it’s the last time he can be so close to him. He’s happy – even the female name Akira keeps calling him almost doesn’t ruin the mood.

_Almost._

Kakuzu would give so much just to hear Akira say  _his_  name with such tenderness.

They walk down the noisy streets, getting lost in the crowd of people. There’s so many people on this festival – it’s surprising for a relatively small town. But it’s better: the more people are there, the less attention he and Akira receive.

Akira talks quite a lot; he tells about himself and his life as a shinobi; tells funny stories that happened to him and his team – Kakuzu knows those by heart, and they seem funny only to Akira most of the time. But Kakuzu still smiles – because he’s happy.

He can’t really tell Akira anything interesting – his disguise isn’t thought through, lacking details. Akira doesn’t seem to be bothered by it – he easily comes up with new topics to keep the conversation going.

Akira says how much he likes him – it’s pleasant and painful to hear, because Akira is fascinated by the non-existing Katsumi, not by him.

But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, because they’re together now.

They go away from the noise, to the quietest place in town; they go up to the roof, like most of their meetings.

Akira kisses him, making him forget about everything else.

“You know, there’s something I wanted to tell you,” Akira says, pulling away, and his voice changes, becoming more serious.

“What is it?” Kakuzu asks, trying not to seem nervous – but his heart is beating like crazy, and Akira is so close he definitely notices it.

Akira opens his mouth but doesn’t even have a chance to speak, when a voice comes from behind him:

“There he is, we’ve got him!”

Akira turns around, and Kakuzu follows his gaze. A few men step from the darkness, forehead protectors with Iwa and Kiri symbols; and one of them is from Konoha. The symbols are crossed. Kakuzu spots a couple of familiar faces – yes, they’re the same shinobi his team fought three days ago while retrieving the scroll they were ordered to get.

So, have these men come to take revenge for their defeat? Damn Akira’s softness; they should’ve killed them.

“Katsumi-chan,” Akira says, “you better run, I’ll deal with them“

Staying and helping Akira means causing suspicion, revealing himself for who he is.

But Akira won’t handle these shinobi on his own, and the choice is obvious.

“Hell no,” Kakuzu gets up, reaching for a tanto hidden under his sash. “I’ll fight with you.”

Surprise in Akira’s eyes is quickly replaced by determination. He nods at him, and they stand back to back – like all times.

 

_But today, they don’t emerge from the fight victorious like all times._

 

Akira looks up into the sky, smiling faintly at something. His head rests on Kakuzu’s lap while he strokes his short hair carefully. A peaceful scene; if not for the corpses of the missing-nin around them, blood on Akira’s lips, the way his hand is pressed to the deep wound in his stomach.

Akira coughs, spitting blood, and his dazed eyes flicker to Kakuzu.

“Where are the fireworks, Katsumi-chan?” he asks quietly, and Kakuzu clenches his fists in desperation.

“Now’s not the time for that, you idiot,” he says almost angrily. “You’re heavily injured.”

Akira makes a short laugh but immediately starts coughing again. As he regains control over his breath, he raises his hand, squeezes Kakuzu’s palm – just like that time; but now the touch is so weak Kakuzu barely feels it. There’s no strength left in Akira.

As if in mockery, fucking fireworks go off in the sky, lighting up everything around them.

“Beautiful...” Akira whispers faintly. “I’m glad I got the chance to watch them with you.”

Kakuzu says nothing. Does it matter now? All that matters is Akira. And he hasn’t got much time left, it’s obvious.

’Please, don’t die’.

Kakuzu can’t force himself to utter a single word.

Akira intertwines their fingers, smiling – looks right at him.

“You know, I’m not blind,” he says, pulls Kakuzu closer, making him lean down. “You... have such beautiful eyes.”

Their lips nearly touch; Akira raises his head, pressing their lips together in a light kiss that lasts no longer than a moment.

“If I only...” there’s sorrow, regret and impossible tenderness in Akira’s voice. “Kakuzu...”

Kakuzu backs away in an instant, looks at him, horrified. It can’t be. Did he... recognize him?

Akira is smiling so happily; his pale face is surprisingly calm. It’s as if he’s sleeping – if not for his empty eyes staring into the sky.

Akira’s dead.

For some reason the only thing Kakuzu can think about now is – how will he tell Hanako about what happened? How will he explain his presence in town, what he was doing with Akira, why everything happened like this. Kakuzu feels something hot and wet on his cheeks and wipes his face in frustration. Looks at his hand – white and red is smeared on his palm. It looks so disgusting; but also symbolic in a way.

_Akira’s dead._

These words sound wrong; as if someone said that the sun is black. In the same way Akira can’t be dead. It’s wrong; it can’t be true.

But it is.

Kakuzu holds his head in his hands, squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to think.

_It’s your fault._

No.

_You know it is._

Kakuzu wants to scream; but he grits his teeth to stay silent; even though pain is tearing him apart from inside, ready to burst out in a desperate howl.

 

_I try to get it back somehow_

 

Madara leans closer, kisses his neck, pausing at the vein; he’s so close he must feel his pulse beating madly, Kakuzu thinks, and a surge of fear rushes through him at a sudden thought – Madara can easily bite into his throat and gnaw, and there’s nothing he can do. Madara has it all under control.

“Don’t resist,” Madara chuckles, licks his cheek, running his tongue along the stitches.

Disgusting. Kakuzu closes his eyes, trying to relax.

He wraps his arm around Madara’s neck, buries his fingers in rough long hair; Madara lets out a surprised yet pleased, satisfied sigh.

“See,” he laughs, and his cold dry hands trail along Kakuzu’s body, making him shudder – it feels wrong. “Aren’t you tired of constantly struggling?”

Instead of answering, Kakuzu presses his lips against Madara’s, kisses him awkwardly, barely remembering how it’s supposed to be done. His unexpected action catches Madara by surprise, but he returns the kiss eagerly, hungrily, subduing him completely.

Or – he just thinks so.

Kakuzu’s fingers are still tangled in Madara’s hair; long and thick, it serves as a perfect cover when Madara doesn’t notice the black threads sliding across his skin, ready to strike any moment.

A few more impossibly long seconds, filled with self-disdain; disgusting seconds of Madara kissing him – it’s not pleasant, hardly bearable; all it does is make him sick. Just a few seconds – he has no more time for hesitation.

And he doesn’t need much time for what comes next; threads tear through flesh and muscles, crush the bones, aiming for the heart – Kakuzu won’t keep it, he wants to destroy it, so there’s nothing more reminding him -

Madara wheezes, twitching instinctively to get out of Kakuzu’s grasp, but he can’t; his mouth is twisted in a painful grimace, blood running down his chin; it’s strange, unreal, is it really – the end? Is it over?

Madara falls onto him, pressing down with all his weight; his long hair gets in the way, obscuring the view, the blood feels disgustingly slick, and the feeling of wrongness doesn’t seem to go away.

Madara laughs.

 _Kai_ , a desperate sound escapes Kakuzu’s lips, but there’s no use.

Kakuzu opens his eyes, meeting Madara’s laughing gaze. Red, like the blood he just – almost – saw.

“Even now... you’re still trying to escape,” Madara seems genuinely amused. “Don’t you see – it’s pointless.”

Kakuzu has no strength to move – to speak. His body doesn’t obey him, as if he’s paralyzed – he could never resist the power of the Sharingan. For the first time he realizes so clearly: he has nowhere to run.

Madara sits up, still so close to him, strokes his cheek almost lovingly. Yes, he’s amused by Kakuzu’s pathetic attempts to free himself. Even before he thought of escaping, the outcome was predetermined.

“You’ll never leave,” Uchiha says, “until I want you to.”

And even if he grows tired of playing with Kakuzu – _when_ , when he breaks him completely – then Madara will simply get rid of him. Kill him. He doesn’t say it, but it’s clear in his mocking voice.

And Kakuzu still can’t figure out why Madara is so... infatuated with him.

“Does there have to be a reason, nii-san?” Shimizu’s voice rings so close to him, and Kakuzu flickers his eyes to the side.

Sister is standing near the bed, looking at him with sympathy – her face is tired, weary, but still she’s holding on; she’s strong, Kakuzu thinks, she’s always been stronger than she looked.

“He just likes it,” she says. “That’s just how he is. People like him take everything they want.”

“What do you understand, Shimizu,” Kakuzu says weakly; it takes him some effort to even open his mouth. He feels drained.

Madara looks at him intently. “Who are you talking to?”

Kakuzu doesn’t pay attention at him.

“What do you need, Shi-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” Shimizu frowns, irritated. “I’m still here, with you. Aren’t I?”

“You’re dead,” Kakuzu objects.

Imouto chuckles sadly, too seriously for a child. “Do you really have to remind me of it?”

Kakuzu shrugs distraughtly. Shimizu’s appearance is supposed to surprise him, but for some reason it feels natural – as if she can’t  _not_  be here. Though how can she  _be_  here...

“There’s no one here,” Madara notes, and there’s something akin to surprise in his eyes.

“I don’t understand why you haven’t escaped yet,” Shimizu reaches to stroke his head, but her touch feels light as a gust of wind. “It’s almost as if you... like being with him.”

“Do you really think I can like that?”

“Then why do you let him break you?”

Kakuzu looks away. He doesn’t know why; perhaps it’s because of fear, that primal horror Madara awakens in him. Fear of dying...

Fear of becoming unwanted, unneeded again.

Even if the way Madara wants him is so perverted, wrong, painful.

Shimizu’s smile is understanding and sad.

“You don’t deserve this, Kakuzu,” it sounds strange – imouto rarely calls him by his name, preferring to use ‘nii-san’ instead.

“I deserve far worse than you can imagine.”

“It seems you’ve really lost your sanity,” Madara mutters. “Not that it matters.”

“Do you want me to help you?” Shimizu offers suddenly. “I’ve always been good with genjutsu. Even back in the Academy.”

“Do whatever you want,” Kakuzu says, closing his eyes. “I’m... so tired.” He doesn’t have any strength to care anymore. Why should he care?

He doesn’t remember what happened next – did anything happen?

But as Kakuzu opens his eyes, he sees the sky above him; the setting sun and rare clouds. He jumps to his feet in an instant, instinctively looking around: he’s in the middle of a forest, and there’s no sign of Madara – or anyone else – near.

Except for Shimizu, of course.

“What did you do?” he asks quietly.

Imouto smiles softly, coming closer, taps his nose – such a childish gesture that Kakuzu almost smiles back at her. Almost.

“What you could not,” she replies simply.

“Don’t tell me you killed  _him_ ,” for some reason Kakuzu just can’t force himself to say Madara’s name out loud.

“You’re so silly, nii-san,” Shimizu laughs. “He’s Uchiha Madara.” Of course. “I just escaped – and I did everything to make it real.”

“Are you real?” Kakuzu asks. “How can you be here?”

“I’m here because you want me to be,” imouto shrugs. “As for whether I’m real... what do you think?”

As Kakuzu is about to reply, he suddenly realizes – he’s all alone in the forest, and Shimizu is not here.

There’s no one – nothing. Except for long forgotten but entrancing feeling of freedom, and he relishes in it, finally able to breathe.

Kakuzu takes a step forward. No one’s chasing him, no one’s trying to capture or kill him.

A crazy thought crawls into his mind – what if he’s still trapped inside Madara’s genjutsu?

 _’Kai’_.

He puts all the strength he still has into this word.

Nothing happens. Everything is the same.

It’s not an illusion.

_Thanks, Shi-chan._

Kakuzu doesn’t look back as he runs – somewhere, he doesn’t know where and it doesn’t matter – he wants to get away as far as possible from Madara, Konoha, the Land of Fire – everything.

In a couple years, Kakuzu hears about Madara’s death – that Hashirama had killed him in a fight – and feels a wave of relief coming over him.

For the first time, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.

_The nightmares still don’t go away, but it doesn’t matter._

 

_the scars that I have I gulped although_

 

“Fuck, why,” Hidan whispers – so desperately, and his trembling fingers squeeze Kakuzu’s shoulders so tightly it’s hard to tell if he’s holding onto him – or trying to hold him in place. “Why the fuck, just tell me, I...” he inhales sharply, presses closer, and his embrace feels so strong, so  _real_.

Kakuzu shrugs, such a helpless, stupid gesture, but there’s nothing he can do. He wants to do something, like holding Hidan as well, run his hand down his back, feel every vertebra under his fingers – _so easy to break now_ – no; each time Kakuzu touches Hidan’s skin, hot and pale, there’s that uncontrollable urge rising inside him again – _break-tear-kill_ – so he doesn’t move at all, letting Hidan touch him.

“I don’t...” Hidan’s slurring his words awkwardly, his whole body’s trembling – not because of fear, it’s something else. Hidan’s not good at words, but he’s trying – it sounds sincere, at least, though it doesn’t help much. “I don’t understand, I don’t fucking understand what the fuck is wrong with you, but I want to help, how don’t you get it.” His palms trail move across Kakuzu’s chest, just like – _Madara’s then_ – and he has to remind himself once more that Hidan is not Madara, that it all happened so long ago, and damned Uchiha has been dead for decades. It doesn’t help much, it doesn’t help at all, and Kakuzu wants to break these arms, smash the bones into pieces, tear the flesh and let the blood flow.  
He feels blood running down his own arms, scratched and cut mercilessly.

“Kakuzu,” Hidan speaks again, and the way he says his name sounds almost pleading.

Kakuzu freezes in place, repeats to himself like a mantra – _he-won’t-harm-me-he-won’t-harm-me_ – and only when Hidan holds his face in his hands, looks at him, eyes wide in horror and pain, Kakuzu realizes he’s been saying it out loud.

“Fuck,” Hidan strokes his face, brushing off the tangled hair from his forehead, “fuck!” he seems to have forgotten all other words, and there’s nothing surprising because there isn’t really anything else to be said.

But Hidan surprises Kakuzu when he simply hugs him, tighter than before, pressing close and kissing him gently – so unlike Hidan’s usual self. He whispers quietly, “I’m here, okay? I’ll never leave. It’s... it’s gonna be okay. We’ll think of something, together, it’ll be alright, you hear me? Together.”

’Together’.

Kakuzu’s body shivers madly as he raises his numb arms to touch Hidan – _kill him, he’s defenseless, kill him before he strikes first_ – to hold him close. He rests his head on Hidan’s shoulder, listening to his wild heartbeat; Hidan won’t harm him.

Hidan is not Madara.

_Is there a difference? They’re the same, they stare the same, just kill him, rip out his eyes and run._

The images of Hidan and Madara mix in his head, form into one; but Hidan’s voice makes him wake up:

“I... don’t know what the fuck happened to you,” Kakuzu stays silent, unmoving, afraid to lose control again, “but I’ll never... I’ll never hurt you. And I won’t let anyone do that.”

_He’s lying._

Hidan is as sincere as ever, and there’s worry and tenderness in his voice that never was there before, but now – he can’t be lying.

There’s no rational reason – Kakuzu simply  _believes_  Hidan.

He shouldn’t.

 

_But he does._

 

 

“Give it to me,” Hidan says, reaches out to take the lipstick from Kakuzu’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Kakuzu looks at him, trying to understand what’s on his mind.

Hidan only smirks softly, twisting the metal tube in his fingers.

“I wanna try it too,” he says suddenly, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the wall. “You don’t mind, right?” and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing him intently. Crazy. Though Kakuzu doesn’t really have any right to call him crazy – considering his own quirks.

“Are you serious now?” he still asks. It won’t surprise him at all if Hidan is just joking around.

“Why the fuck not?” Hidan shrugs. “I’m curious. I doubt I’ll look as beautiful as you, though.”

“Beautiful,” Kakuzu repeats. It sounds unusual, strange, wrong. Where’s beauty in this? Kakuzu remembers Madara and his eyes, full of mad lust when he saw him like this. Hidan likes looking at him too – for no apparent reason – but he looks with genuine admiration, even though it was mixed with confusion at first. His look causes no aversion – no fear.  
Though it is strange; Kakuzu doesn’t really think of himself as beautiful. All makeup does is make him look slightly better, but beautiful? Certainly not. But the expression in Hidan’s eyes doesn’t change. Kakuzu doesn’t want to admit it, but he likes it.

“Fucking amazing,” Hidan confirms, grinning widely. “You look fucking great with all this stuff on your face. I mean, you look great without it, too... but now – fuck, I could stare at you all day.” Hidan reaches out, his fingers barely brushing Kakuzu’s face. And in his eyes is this admiration again – _why the hell are you looking at me like that, what do you see._

Hidan seems to notice something in his expression and moves away, and Kakuzu sighs, relieved. Despite them having talked everything through, the anxiety doesn’t fade completely; there’s no reason to be afraid of Hidan, but it’s still hard. Kakuzu isn’t afraid – he’s just used to be wary, too careful, even when there’s no need to.

“Fuck, uh, what I wanted to say,” Hidan clears his throat to hide the awkwardness. “I want to know why you like it so much.”

“Why do  _you_  like it?”

Hidan seems to lose all his confidence, bites his lips, thinking of something to reply with.

“I told you, I just like how this fucking makeup looks on you.” Kakuzu chuckles, shaking his head. Hidan never changes. “But it’s when I look at you. It’s great. But when you paint yourself, what exactly do you like about it?” Hidan moves closer, kisses the corner of his mouth – it’s quick and almost innocent. Hidan often doesn’t get the simplest things; but he’s also sensitive and almost delicate when it’s needed, and Kakuzu appreciates it more with each day. “I don’t understand, and it pisses me off when I don’t understand something.”

“You think you’ll understand like this?” Kakuzu catches his hand, still holding that damn lipstick – bright red, the color being closer to orange than crimson like before. It won’t really suit Hidan anyway – a lighter color would go with his pale face better. “I can tell you what I like about wearing makeup. It makes my face look a bit more decent.” He looks at Hidan, holding back a sigh. “And you don’t need it... Idiot. Give it back.”

Hidan frees his hand with ease and starts applying the lipstick on himself. Kakuzu doesn’t stop him, because he doesn’t really care – and he’s curious too.

Hidan is all concentrated, frowning as he smears the lipstick all over his lips, and it’s so sloppy, so...  _distasteful_  that Kakuzu just can’t hold back. He snatches the lipstick back from Hidan’s hand – this whole situation is so stupid – then wipes his lips clean to the best of his abilities; holds his chin firmly to keep him from moving and applies it again – slowly, carefully. The color doesn’t suit Hidan at all, but if the layer is thin enough – well, it looks somewhat alright. Hidan stops moving under his hands; he’s trembling a little, and his eyes are gleaming wildly. Such an idiot, Kakuzu thinks, feeling sudden tenderness come over him.

“I could’ve handled it,” Hidan mutters, his face turning red – as if he’s embarrassed by all this.

“You couldn’t,” Kakuzu objects, moves away, studying him meticulously. “I told you. You don’t need that.”

“Aw, is it really that bad?” Hidan manages to sound both offended and amused. He licks his lips and winces a bit. “Well, it does taste like shit. It’s better when I kiss you.”

“Shut up, for god’s sake.”

“Jashin-sama doesn’t give a fuck whether I speak or keep my mouth shut.”

Hidan reaches for the mirror, stares at his reflection for some time and smirks.

“What are you talking about? Looks pretty fine.” Contrary to what he said, he wipes the lipstick off his mouth. Explains in a moment, “The taste is awful, and it feels fucking weird. So sticky. How can you wear it all day?”

“I’m not wearing makeup all day,” Kakuzu objects.

What a meaningless conversation.

“Half a day, who cares,” Hidan waves his hand at him. “And you got paint all over your fucking face, it’s fucking crazy. I’d die if I were you.”

“That’s why you don’t need it.”

“I do,” Hidan looks at him stubbornly. “You shouldn’t be the only one.”

Either he didn’t finish his phrase, unable to find words, or he meant something Kakuzu couldn’t understand. Hidan’s always like this, spouting nonsense and refusing to clear it up. Instead, he wraps his arms around Kakuzu’s shoulders, gets on his lap – this insolent brat, he’s even smiling when there’s nothing to be happy about. Kakuzu never understood what was going on in his head.

What an idiot.

But nothing would be the same without Hidan here. It’d only be worse.

So Kakuzu doesn’t really mind what Hidan’s doing; he just holds him close and allows himself to relax a little.

 

_they hurt, they hurt, but you won’t know_

 

Kakuzu watches the sunset over the village – such a beautiful sight. He’d almost forgotten why he ever loved Takigakure.

His home, his family was there – it was a place he once swore to protect with his life.

Now... the sunset is probably the only thing left to admire in this place.

“You shouldn’t worry about the past,” Shimizu says as she comes to him and presses her cheek to his shoulder. “It’s all gone now. You should live in the present.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kakuzu hugs her, pulling her close. “You have nothing to worry about anymore.”

“Oh, I do,” Shimizu looks up at him seriously. “I worry about you, nii-san. You’re pushing yourself too hard, it’s... not right.”

Kakuzu only shrugs at her words. Right or not... who cares. Nothing can be changed, and it won’t get any better. It’s alright as it is – not too bad, at least.

“I’m sorry,” imouto whispers suddenly. “It’s all my fault.”

He looks at her with confusion – there are tears in her eyes, but she still forces a smile.

“Shi-chan... you have nothing to do with this. Why are you saying that?”

“I just... miss you so much... but you shouldn’t kill yourself just because I’m lonely,” Shimizu wipes her face with her trembling hand, but the tears keep running down her cheeks. “In truth... I really want you to be happy. You can be happy, just let yourself be.”

“I can’t,” Kakuzu says quietly. “What’s it even like, being happy? I don’t remember, I’m not sure I ever knew it.”

Shimizu stands on her tiptoes, caresses his face – she’s smiling, but there’s sorrow in her eyes.

“Then learn,” she says. “It’s not too late yet. You’re not alone.”

“You’re dead,” Kakuzu objects. “I don’t think it counts.”

“Silly,” imouto tugs on his hair lightly. “I don’t mean myself. Hidan...”

“Just wants to try something new. He’ll get bored soon.”

“Silly,” Shimizu repeats, “you’re really so stupid sometimes.”

Kakuzu doesn’t want to continue this pointless conversation and says nothing.

“Will you forgive me?” she keeps insisting she’s guilty of something when Kakuzu is the only one to blame for everything.

Shimizu stands before him, engulfed in flames, and she’s fading slowly into this fire – so cruel, merciless, taking her away from him.

She’s gone; he’s as lonely as never before, and still...

 

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, Shi-chan.”

 

_words you say that we can’t see_

 

Hidan squeezes Kakuzu’s palms, not letting go; it’s the only way he can try to convey all that he feels but can’t say. That he’ll always be there for him, he’ll protect him – from someone or himself. Kakuzu looks at him, but it’s as if he doesn’t see him, doesn’t even notice him here.

It angers Hidan. It scares him – again – Hidan had never feared for someone that much.

“Listen to me,” he says, trying to make him acknowledge his presence. “Kakuzu.”

He has to repeat his name a few more times before Kakuzu finally shudders, blinks and looks at Hidan, his gaze becoming more meaningful.

“What?..”

“Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” Hidan asks softly. “I can’t... I fucking can’t, you’re literally going crazy. And not telling me shit.”

Kakuzu squeezes his hands for a brief second and relaxes the grip almost immediately; Hidan thinks he’s afraid of hurting him again.

“No.”

“Fuck, why?” Hidan raises his head, looking into his eyes. “I want to help!”

“You won’t help,” Kakuzu’s voice breaks strangely, “no one will help, just don’t think about it. It shouldn’t concern you.”

Hidan doesn’t think – he just punches him in the face, overwhelmed with anger; swings again, hoping to beat at least some sense in him – and freezes, noticing the look in his eyes. Acceptance. Indifference. A little bit of disappointment. As if he’d expected something like this from Hidan, and...

 _Fuck_. Hidan lowers his arm, feeling his insides twisting painfully; moves closer instead, hugging Kakuzu – firmly, but still carefully, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Fuck, you’re...” Hidan grits his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

He’s not good at this, so he just talks nonsense again, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“I just... I can’t when you start being like this. I’m fucking losing my mind too, don’t you get it, I see something is wrong with you, but you’re not letting me even try to help.”

Kakuzu doesn’t reply, only puts his hands on Hidan’s shoulders and forces him away gently. Looks at him with such warmth, and Hidan once again finds himself at a loss for words.

“I appreciate it,” Kakuzu says suddenly. “But there’s nothing you can do.”

 _Idiot,_ Hidan thinks _, fucking stubborn idiot. I can’t leave you like that, I can’t just sit and watch when you pretend it’s fine._

He doesn’t say this, though. He asks instead, remembering those strange words:

“I remember you said... something like ‘he won’t harm me’. Why, what did you think I’d do?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It fucking does!” Hidan takes a deep breath to calm down. “Tell me. What happened?”

“I don’t think it’s anything you want to know,” Kakuzu says quietly.

“Let me decide.”

Kakuzu is silent for a long time; but Hidan doesn’t rush him, ready to wait as long as necessary. And his patience is soon rewarded.

Kakuzu turns away, not willing to face him, and starts speaking.

He starts from the beginning; he’s rambling, stopping on the minor details for too long – it’s as if he’s kept everything in for a long time, waiting for a chance to tell someone; and perhaps it’s true, most likely. Hidan listens closely, and he’s not that surprised at first – a shinobi’s life isn’t easy, just think of Itachi who murdered his whole clan -

But Hidan really isn’t ready for what he hears. When Kakuzu gets to the part about his village betraying him and – _the punishment_ – Hidan just stares at him for a few seconds.

“They decided fucking me would sure be a good lesson,” he says casually.

 _They... what?_  Hidan shakes his head, the revelation seeming so unbelievable.

“I think it was an order,” Kakuzu lets out a ragged sound, something between sob and laugh. “Or maybe not. Maybe they just wanted to have fun... because it’s so much fun, right, Hidan, having someone sprawled on the floor before you, begging for mercy you never give? But in any case, it was a punishment rightfully deserved. Nothing to complain about. Though it hurt. But punishment isn’t supposed to be pleasant, right?”

Hidan opens his mouth, closes it. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t say anything. Nothing comes to mind. Except from maybe –  _what the fuck, nobody deserves something like this._  He squeezes Kakuzu’s hand tight, showing that he’s there – but Kakuzu doesn’t seem to pay attention at that.

“You know, one of them was brave,” Kakuzu looks down, “wanted me to suck him. Told me he’d slice my throat if I tried biting or anything. And you know what, Hidan?” He stares right at him, smiling, and this smile... it’s not even a smile, it’s a pained grimace. “I really, really didn’t want to die.”

Hidan feels his shock fading, replaced by anger; he wants to curse loudly or break something, but he forces himself to stay calm. Kakuzu doesn’t need him freaking out now – cause he’s doing a good job of it himself, his eyes flickering from side to side, his breathing raspy and heavy.

Hidan stays silent, because he knows – if he interrupts Kakuzu now, he probably won’t say anything more.

Hidan wants to – _he has to_ – hear everything.

So he strokes Kakuzu’s palms gently, intertwines their fingers – he’s here, he’s not going anywhere, everything is okay.

Though it certainly doesn’t seem so. When Kakuzu talks about Madara, it’s long and thorough, with so many details – _‘it wasn’t so bad’ – ‘he actually cared a little’ – ‘he looked at me just like you’ – ‘I hated every second of it’ – ‘I hated him’ – ‘I couldn’t resist’_ – and there’s that forced detachment in his voice, completely fake. Hidan can see it in his eyes – he’s barely holding on now. Just like Hidan himself; he has to bite his lip to keep silent. So Kakuzu saw this fucking Madara in him – maybe he still does now; and it hurts, this distrust, but Hidan also understands  _why_  it’s like this, and says nothing.

When Kakuzu finally stops talking, Hidan thinks he didn’t tell him everything – that he left out some important detail, and he almost wants to ask – but Kakuzu’s heavy, pained look stops him.

Instead, Hidan says – as honest as ever, “I’d kill him. All of them. These assholes are lucky they’re already dead because I would fucking kill them – just kill, they’re not worthy to become sacrifices to Jashin-sama.”

Kakuzu laughs hoarsely, almost naturally, Hidan would believe him – if not for this barely noticeable tension in him.

“You’re impossible,” Kakuzu says, his voice unusually tender. “You’re such an idiot, Hidan.”

_’Didn’t you understand? Does this not matter to you?’_

It matters, but not in the way Kakuzu must be thinking; Hidan doesn’t know what to do, what to say, but he sure as hell isn’t going to leave.

“I still remember it so clearly.” Kakuzu stops smiling suddenly. “It hurts.” He doesn’t cry or anything, but he definitely looks like hell. “You know what’s funny, Hidan? It’s all been so long ago. I can barely remember Akira’s face, or Hanako’s, or even mother’s – but I just can’t seem to forget Madara or that night in prison. I don’t know why. Are those really the things to remember, Hidan?” The look in his eyes is tearing Hidan apart; he’s never seen Kakuzu in such awful state. All this... what he’s told him... Hidan wants to punch himself for all the times he’s been so fucking selfish – inconsiderate.

Kakuzu still looks at him, not saying anything else. It’s as if he doesn’t expect anything from him. Hidan can’t really blame him. But he doesn’t want to see him like this.

“Hey... Hey!” Hidan moves closer, wraps his arms around his neck. “We’ll make some good memories together, okay? You don’t have to remember all this shit... I get that it’s hard, that it’s kinda... a part of you forever, but you don’t have to live through it again and again. I’m here, okay? I’ll never leave. We’ll have a lifetime of fucking amazing memories. I promise.”

Kakuzu shudders at his touch, but relaxes soon, holding him. He says nothing but strokes Hidan’s hair softly, his heartbeat calming a little. “You didn’t have to tell me,” Hidan whispers. “And I... understand why you didn’t want to. But I’m here. It’s... it’s okay. We’ll be okay, you hear me? I’ll never leave. Never.” Kakuzu takes a few deep breaths, his arms tightening around Hidan to the point it almost hurts.

“You’re still wrong, Shi-chan,” he says suddenly. “Just go.”

Hidan flinches – Kakuzu clearly isn’t talking to him now, and who is this Shi – he didn’t mention this name.

“What is it?” Hidan strokes his shoulder carefully, trying to calm him – unsure if he needs it. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Hidan?” Kakuzu asks, and Hidan frowns, trying to understand what does this have to with anything. “It doesn’t matter... just don’t listen to me.” Kakuzu laughs again, and this laugh is almost hysterical. “She’s dead, but she won’t leave me alone, Hidan. I miss her, but not like this, not like this.”

Hidan wants to pull away, look into his eyes, but Kakuzu only presses him closer, not letting go.

“I’m losing my mind, Hidan.”

No, it doesn’t get any better, it only gets worse; and Hidan has no idea what to do to fix it; he knows he’ll try to do at least  _something_ , but he’s not sure if it’ll help.

 

_they hit and they are killing me_

 

“Can you tell me about Akira?” Hidan wonders as he stretches lazily on the bed next to Kakuzu. “What was he like? I mean, the guy had to be fucking gorgeous for you to fall so hard for him.”

Kakuzu rubs his forehead, sitting up. Hidan’s question is... unexpected. Why would he be interested in Akira? He’s no more than a distant memory now anyway.

“Hey,” Hidan touches his arm. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Kakuzu shrugs. Not that he doesn’t want to. He’s not sure how to talk about things like this; he’s not sure if Hidan will like it.

“He was amazing,” Kakuzu says simply. “Kind, smart and strong... he had that something that just attracted people to him. I wasn’t an exception, as you can guess.”

Hidan looks at him, a strange expression in his eyes; Kakuzu thinks it’s close to sadness, and he doesn’t want to see Hidan sad; but he wasn’t the one who started this conversation, so he goes on. Hidan doesn’t tell him to shut up, after all.

“Akira would always get out of his way to help everyone, even if it meant putting our mission at risk. I didn’t agree most of the times, but sometimes... it was the right thing to do. Not that I ever thought about ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ after his death – it was meaningless. I...” Kakuzu frowns, realizing he really doesn’t remember that much. Has it really been so long? Akira’s face is blurred in his mind; he remembers his laughter, his smile and that warm look in his eyes, but no more than that. “You and Akira are somewhat alike,” he says.

“Really now?” Hidan huffs. “In what way?”

“Your smile,” Kakuzu closes his eyes for a brief second before looking back at Hidan. “You’re actually different. But the way you smile sometimes... you remind me of him.” Of Madara, too; but he doesn’t want to mention that. Hidan doesn’t deserve to be compared to him.

“I’m fucking jealous now,” Hidan makes a forced laugh. “Of a dead man... shit, how crazy is that.”

“There’s no reason to be,” Kakuzu shakes his head. “I’m not with you just because I see Akira in you. I’m with you because you’re... you,” it sounds awfully stupid, but he can’t find better words to express it.

“Oh.” Hidan suddenly sits up as well, shifting a bit closer. “So we’re serious, yeah?”

“A lifetime of fucking amazing memories,” Kakuzu quotes. He wants to sound playful or joking, but it comes out more sarcastic and grim.

“I’m not giving up on my words!” Hidan laughs again, and this time it’s much lighter. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted it. To stick with me for eternity.”

Hidan snuggles to him as if asking for an embrace; and Kakuzu can’t really resist him, tucking him closer as Hidan’s head rests against his shoulder. Kakuzu likes it when he’s close like this; it’s safe, and it’s good.

Well, perhaps ‘likes’ isn’t a strong enough word. He  _needs_  Hidan to be close like this; he needs it like air, and even more. If Hidan leaves, everything will fall apart completely. As if it’s possible for everything to become worse than it already is.

Hidan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s thinking; he reaches to touch Kakuzu’s face lightly, making him look at him. He’s smiling, and there’s that playful tenderness in his eyes Kakuzu still isn’t quite used to. But it makes his life a little more bearable.

“So, um, do you want it?”

“To be with you forever?” Kakuzu strokes his back absent-mindedly. He’s not really in the mood for this kind of talk right now, but Hidan seems to have a different opinion regarding that.

“Yeah,” he looks into his eyes. “I mean... is it serious for you?”

For Kakuzu, their strange, illogical relationship is the only thing that keeps him going on. But he’s not so crazy yet (damn funny) to say something like this out loud.

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t let you... I wouldn’t start this at all.”

Hidan shakes his head in irritation.

“I get that much, it’s not what I was asking.”

The way he looks is strange, as if expecting something; he’s unsure, despite trying to mask it behind his usual stubborn expression.

“Do you want to know if I love you?”

Hidan blinks, and his cheekbones turn a light shade of pink – it’s... a little cute. He clears his throat before saying quietly:

“Well, fuck... I just wanted to ask how... important I am to you, something like this.” He smiles suddenly. “But you said it, so go on, I’m curious! Do you love me?”

“I do,” Kakuzu says simply.

There’s no use in hiding it – he loves Hidan, so much he can’t live without him. This is somewhat new, after all these years; but it’s how he feels.

It happened subtly, by itself; Kakuzu didn’t want it, but for some reason he let Hidan too close. And now – he can’t let him go. Even if Hidan doesn’t feel quite the same, him being near is enough.

_Not really anymore, to be honest, but..._

Hidan freezes for a few long moments before hugging him tightly – so tight Kakuzu thinks his bones might crack. He feels Hidan smile against his neck. But that’s it.

He doesn’t say, ‘I love you too’. He doesn’t say anything.

_What did you expect?_

At least Hidan doesn’t lie to him or give him false hopes.

Kakuzu says nothing as well, wraps both arms around him, relishing in his closeness. He’s only glad Hidan doesn’t see his face now.

_Selfish. Stupid. Naive._

So... natural to wish for your feelings to be reciprocated.

 

_the smile that I had through all these years_

 

Kakuzu stands with his back facing the door; he doesn’t hear Hidan come in, and it’s hard to make out what he’s doing. At first, Hidan thinks he’s playing with his makeup again. But then he hears a disgusting sound of water dripping, chilling him to the bone.

It’s not water.  _Blood_.

It becomes obvious when Hidan sees red stains on the floor under Kakuzu’s feet.

Hidan looks closely – and sees the kunai in his hands, sees him preparing to make another cut; and Hidan doesn’t even understand how he manages to get close enough to grab the blade and throw it to the opposite side of the room. There’s a deep cut on his palm, but Hidan doesn’t care about himself.

Kakuzu stands frozen in place, and his hands are trembling violently.

Hidan presses close to him, breathing heavily; there are no words, he doesn’t know what to say, there’s nothing to say. Hidan has never cried before – maybe when he was a little kid, but now he feels tears sting his eyes, and there’s wetness on his cheek.

_Fuck._

“Just fucking stop it,” Hidan hisses, squeezing Kakuzu’s bloodied wrists, “stop it, fucking stop it, stop! What the fuck do I do, what do I say for you to get this shit out of your fucking stupid head once and for all?!” His voice is breaking, trembling despite all his attempts to control it.

Kakuzu shudders, turns to him – there’s surprise in his eyes, even shock.

“Hidan... Are you... crying?” He raises his hand, barely touching Hidan’s face with his fingertips, “don’t... because of me.”

“I’m not fucking crying,” Hidan backs away, wiping his face violently, “why the fuck would I cry because of you? Fuck, you’re pissing me off, you fucking crazy bastard. I’m just... just... fuck!”

Kakuzu is looking at him silently, completely at a loss for words.

“How the fuck don’t you understand,” Hidan grabs his shoulders, gripping tightly, pulling closer – to look right into his eyes. “This is fucking sick, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

His words don’t seem to have any effect on Kakuzu, just like all other times he’d tried to talk some sense into him. But at least there’s a guilty expression on his face – it’s something. He pushes Hidan away, says seriously, almost calmly:

“It helps me. I told you that you have nothing to worry about. Just wait.”

“Wait? Fucking wait for what, until you lose your fucking mind completely and cut your fucking throat?”

Kakuzu looks away and rubs his forehead tiredly – blood stays on his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hidan.”

“Just don’t tell me you feel fucking great now,” he says angrily.

“Now I don’t want to tear you to pieces.”

Hidan freezes, looking at him – what? Kakuzu shakes his head, chuckles sadly and ruffles Hidan’s hair.

“Too often... I want to hurt you. Not just hit you – kill you, wreck you, break all your bones – I can’t resist.”

He sounds so calm saying it, so emotionless. Hidan bites his lip, unsure what to say.

“I... have snapped before.”

Hidan remembers – Kakuzu would leave him pretty messed up after their sparring sessions. Back then, Hidan thought Kakuzu simply hated him, taking his anger out on him.

But it wasn’t because of this... A sudden spark of understanding makes him clench his fists. Was Kakuzu afraid?

“So you cut yourself just to keep from hurting me?” His voice breaks.

“Not just because of that, but it’s one reason, yes,” Kakuzu touches the fresh wounds on his arm. “Before, it was the only thing keeping me from going fully insane. Now it serves another purpose as well... what do you care, anyway? Don’t think about it.”

What the fuck does he care.

Hidan sucks in a breath, clenches his fists harder so that the nails dig deep into the skin.

“Even such a fucking dumbass like you,” he starts, “should have already understood that I fucking care about you.”

“Not like I care about you,” Kakuzu says quietly. “But it’s alright.”

 _Not like you care about me?_  What the fuck, Hidan thinks. We both care about each other. It’s the same. But it’s not the time to argue about that of all things, so he goes on.

“I’m... worried about you. I can’t fucking stand seeing you like this, there, I said it, happy? And if you cut yourself one more fucking time, I’ll rip your fucking arms off, no kidding.”

Kakuzu chuckles, returning to his usual self for a moment – and kisses him suddenly, puts his hands on his neck, squeezing lightly at first, then tighter and tighter.

Hidan flinches but doesn’t try to break free or push him away, even when it gets hard to breathe, when something cracks in his neck. It’s fine. Hidan’s immortal, no injury can be bad enough to harm him. It’s better if Kakuzu breaks Hidan than himself – he’ll handle it.

When it starts to feel like Kakuzu is really going to break his neck or rip off his head – he lets go of him suddenly, moves away.

“I will never hurt you again,” he says.

Looks at him, smiling – and it’s almost a normal smile, right – and Hidan smiles back.

He wants to say, ‘everything will be alright’, but it’d sound too stupid and naive.

_Even though Hidan believes in it._

 

_it bears, it bears, these hateful tears_

 

Kakuzu pulls away when Hidan kisses him, and it’s not because the unpleasant memories take over him again – more like he’s unsure or forgot something important.

“What is it?” Hidan looks at him, trying to understand what’s wrong.

Follows his gaze – Kakuzu is staring at his cosmetics he left on the table. Why would he need it now.

“Hey,” Hidan tugs on his hair lightly, making him turn his head. “We don’t need that tonight, okay?”

“I thought you liked it,” Kakuzu tries to sound sarcastic but it comes out uncertain.

Hidan holds back an irritated sigh.

“I do, but... fuck. Look, if you want it right now – if it, I don’t know, makes you feel better – I’m perfectly fine with you painting your face or your whole fucking body. But I feel that...” he stumbles over his words, unsure how to better say it – he’s not even sure he’s right in his assumptions. “That you just think I won’t want you without makeup all over you.”

The expression that appears in Kakuzu’s eyes for a brief moment is enough to prove him right.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Kakuzu asks softly. “You liked me that way. It’s what drew you to me. I understand, really-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Hidan exhales. “It’s not fucking true.”

And Hidan would be satisfied with this answer in his place, he’d believe it and calm down – but it’s Kakuzu, since when has it ever been easy with this bastard? So Hidan has to explain – try to, at least.

“Okay, listen... your makeup is fucking something, you look amazing and stuff – but if you really think it’s the only reason I want you – fuck, you’re even more dumb than I thought.”

Kakuzu looks at him suspiciously, expecting some catch to be in his words, and fuck, Hidan really wants to say, ‘fuck it all’, and leave.

But he knows he’s going to regret it for his whole life if he does that.

No matter how fucked up, completely out of his mind Kakuzu is – Hidan needs him. It might be fucking destiny, or Jashin-sama’s will – what kind of sin could I have committed for you to hate me so much, Jashin-sama?! – but it doesn’t matter.

“I love  _you_. I need  _you_ – with your face painted or not, you don’t need to do it, it changes nothing, I want  _you_ , just you to be with me. The  _real_  you. So stop with this fucking nonsense already,” Hidan inhales sharply, “I’m not going to leave you.”

“What did you say?”

“Fuck, do you want me to repeat it all over again?” Hidan snaps. “Did you even listen?”

Kakuzu frowns, staring at him with the same suspicious, doubting look.

“I did. Repeat what you said, the first thing.”

“That you’re a fucking idiot,” Hidan freezes as realization hits him. Fuck, how did that slip out? But he can’t take his words back, and he’s not going to play dumb now – especially considering that what he said was true. “And that I love you. And don’t even try to make me say this a third time, it’s not gonna happen-“

Kakuzu silences him mid-word, pressing his lips against his in an unusually passionate kiss; holds him tight, and Hidan returns the kiss eagerly – it’s better than talking, much better, because Hidan’s never been good at putting his feelings into words; it’s easier just to show them.

 

_you’re smiling and that’s all I see_

 

Once again – there’s been dozens, hundreds of times, Kakuzu never kept count – he looks in the mirror as he applies the black eyeliner. It’s just like all those times before; but now the daylight is coming through the window, and Hidan’s behind him, looking at the result with genuine interest.

Now – Kakuzu feels almost alright, as alright as possible, all things considered.

There is no pain, no heavy feeling of hatred and helplessness clouding his head.

His own reflection in the mirror doesn’t make him sick.

Hidan presses closer to him, rests his head on his shoulder – smiles serenely, muttering something barely audible.

Noticing Kakuzu’s questioning look, he explains, “I’m praying to Jashin-sama. For us both.”

Before, Kakuzu would laugh or make a sarcastic comment on his strange religion, but now he doesn’t want to say anything like it. Everyone needs something to believe in, something to hold on to, and religion is not the worst thing. Hidan’s obviously been through a lot, too – but he’s still far more sane than Kakuzu.

(And the fact that he mentions Kakuzu in his prayers is strangely heart-warming, but he isn’t going to voice that).

He tilts his head, looking at the reflection – all in all, not as bad as it usually was recently. Almost beautiful.

“What do you think?”

Hidan stops his quiet recitative, stares meticulously. “Let down your hair,” he says and does that himself, letting the heavy dark waves fall over Kakuzu’s shoulders.

Kakuzu barely ever lets his hair down, always keeping it tied at least in a simple ponytail, so that it doesn’t get in the way. But he can’t deny that Hidan is right – it does look better.

Hidan nods, looking pleased, smiles again. “Fuckin’ pefect now.”

Kakuzu wants to smile back, but instead turns to him, “Do you consider this normal?”

“Why the fuck not?” Hidan asks. “You like it, I like it – as for what others might think... do you give a fuck?”

“Actually...”

“You shouldn’t,” Hidan says assuredly. “I don’t give a fuck about what people think or say about me. It’s easier this way.”

Hidan’s philosophy of life, deep in its outward simplicity, finally makes Kakuzu smile.

“See, I’m right,” Hidan kisses him lightly, quickly, managing not to ruin the freshly applied makeup. “Just tell the world to go fuck itself.”

_Why not._

Hidan is right in something – if not in everything.

 

_you know it’s unforgivably_

 

Losing to some little brat – even if he’s a jinchuuriki, he didn’t even use his bijuu powers – what a disgrace. Though Kakuzu has to blame himself for this – he was too reckless, too sure of his invincibility. And now he’s going to pay for it with his life.

It doesn’t really matter whether his opponents are going to finish him off or not; he already feels he hasn’t got much time left, his last heart pounding slowly, heavily, skipping beats.

Kakuzu thinks about Hidan – about Hatake’s words. A trap made specifically for him, a trap this careless idiot got into – he must’ve, considering he’d destroyed Kakuzu’s heart just like these Konoha bastards planned.

How do you defeat an immortal? Separate his head from the body; or even dismember him into little pieces, to make sure he’s not a threat anymore.

Just the thought of Hidan having to spend his eternity in such a state – in endless agony, unable to do anything...

It’s unbearable.

Kakuzu wants to get up, rush to Hidan’s side, to help – but his body is numb, motionless, too weakened by the last blow. It hurts – so much he thinks all his bones are broken. Maybe they are.

Kakuzu hears the footsteps and struggles to turn his head a bit to see the man before him.

Hatake – raises his hand, lightning forming in his palm. So he came to finish him off, not leaving anything to chance. Kakuzu grimaces slightly. At least it’ll be over soon.

“Kakashi-sen--!” someone – the jinchuuriki – screams, choking on his own voice.

Or not.

Hatake turns around, but the next moment his chest is pierced by a metal spike.

“Don’t even fucking think of it, asshole,” Hidan exhales hoarsely – he’s alive and looking alright; Kakuzu feels strange happiness overwhelming him.

He’s alright.

“I promised you,” Kakuzu hears before Hidan lunges into another attack – there are still others to deal with.

 

_but if you think that this is fine_

_then please come kill me don’t decline_

 

The sounds of the fighting fade, and Kakuzu hears Hidan coming closer to him. He opens his eyes; Hidan kneels down before him, reaches out to stroke his tangled hair – Kakuzu feels his hand trembling.

“You’re... you’re still alive, aren’t you? Fuck, tell me you are.”

Kakuzu tries to say ‘you’re such an idiot’ or something like this.

But he can only breathe out quietly, “Hidan.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he says hastily, “fuck, what should I do?”

_Nothing. It’s too late._

“You... need a new heart, fuck, I’ve killed them all,” Hidan glances around, looking so lost. “I... take my heart, I’m immortal and...”

Gathering all the strength that’s left in him, Kakuzu raises his hand, squeezing Hidan’s wrist firmly, and when he looks at him, shakes his head.

“No? Why? You... are you okay or not, fuck... fuck!” Hidan leans down to him helplessly. Says in a quiet, desperate voice, “Jashin-sama, I’ve never asked you for anything, but fuck, please, please, don’t let this bastard die, please.”

_Your Jashin isn’t real, and even if he was – would he save me?_

Hidan doesn’t hear his thoughts, continuing with this nonsense.

The pain starts to fade – perhaps, Kakuzu just got used to it. Or it’s the shock – who cares, it doesn’t matter now.

“Fuck,” Hidan whispers, “fuck, don’t you dare die on me, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

This is so stupid and illogical, so like Hidan; and Kakuzu would laugh if he still could. But all he can do is hold Hidan’s hand, clinging onto him like he’s the only thing that still keeps him here -

In this world.

Dying is... strange. If he’s dying – it’s hard to understand.

Once – it was so long ago – he’d told Hidan that he’d rather die than hurt him again.

Now, he thinks that his death will probably hurt Hidan more – but he’s probably fooling himself, why would Hidan care.

Hidan’s voice is trembling, nearly breaking as he calls for his god again and again; Kakuzu doesn’t hear just what he’s saying, only ‘Jashin-sama’ and ‘please’.

 _Well, Jashin, if you exist – let me die already_ , he thinks.

“Don’t be like that,” Shimizu says.

She’s standing so close – reaches out to him, and Kakuzu only has to reach his hand to her too – but instead, he squeezes Hidan’s palm tighter. He somehow knows – this choice defines everything. Shimizu looks at him, slightly offended, but understanding – and smiles bitterly.

“It’s okay... I’ll wait,” she takes a few steps back. “I’m being so selfish, I’m sorry... I just miss you so much, nii-san.”

In the bright sunlight, her body becomes transparent, and she starts to dissolve into the air. To the very end, she’s smiling – and Kakuzu can’t look away from her.

“Take care of him for me,” Shimizu says softly to Hidan – why, if he can’t hear her anyway?

But Hidan shudders, shuts up for a second, looking around – as if he’s heard her. But it’s impossible, it must be something else.

When imouto finally disappears, Kakuzu feels like it’s suddenly become easier to breathe.

Why, if she was only in his mind, is there a difference whether she leaves or stays if she was never here to begin with?

But he has no strength to think about it.

Hidan keeps whispering his strange prayers, mixing them with curses, and it sounds so calming.

Maybe... maybe everything will be alright.

Kakuzu closes his eyes, allowing himself to relax for the first time in what seems like ages.

_There’s nothing to fear anymore._

_Hidan is here._

_  
’cause ‘I’ it slowly turned the ‘me’ into what is ‘lies’_

 

 


End file.
